Getting There
by adangeli
Summary: Donna and Josh are working for the same team again when Lou hires her to work on Santos' campaign. But she and Josh have a lot of issues to work out before they can get anywhere.
1. Operating In Absolutes

_**Author's Note: I'm posting my other works to FF that never quite made it here. This was posted at B4A and on my website, way back when it was written. That was... 2005.**_

**_December 31, 2010 - Edited for section breaks and grammar._**

* * *

It's been a hell of a week. I got hired on with the Santos campaign, without Josh's knowledge. Then, Josh and I had a very short conversation in which we started to say what needed to be said and then ended up saying nothing about everything that's happened between us in the last few months. Tonight, Congressman Santos delivered a hell of a speech at the Al Smith Dinner, despite coming down on the wrong side of the issue.

Now, I'm exhausted. I have a hotel room and six solid hours before I need to be anywhere. I kick off my shoes and flop haphazardly onto the bed. Aside from the campaign, it's emotionally exhausting to work with someone you long ago fell in love with and then recently discovered could barely stand the sight of you after the perception that you turned traitor. I've been trying to avoid Josh since that practically disastrous conversation.

So, when my cell phone plays his dedicated ring I'm both elated and apprehensive. It takes me half the first run-through of the polyphonic song to decide whether or not to answer. And, now that I've decided to answer it, I actually have to work up the nerve to do it. Okay, one…two… "Josh."

"Donna."

"So, the Congressman did well tonight."

"Uh-huh." This man is a Fulbright scholar?

"I probably would have hit the point about limits a little harder but—"

"Donna." He interrupts me. "I didn't call to talk about Santos, the speech, abortion, the campaign or anything else you're going to try to use as a diversionary tactic."

"Oh." It seems I've caught the bug now, too.

"Come have a drink with me."

"Now?"

"Yes, now." He sounds exasperated.

"Where?"

"Well, there's a charming little lounge just east of the hotel lobby…" Now he's just being sarcastic.

"Okay, Josh. Give me fifteen minutes." I guess it's a yes because he's hung up.

I take a minute to put myself back together. I mean, if he's going to break my heart all over again I want him to at least regret it. My hair has been in a sensible ponytail since about three o'clock. I take it down and shake it out a little. This new cut has a lot more body than the way I used to wear it. The end result is decidedly sexy. I lose my now much wrinkled blouse and sort through my suitcase for the green chenille cardigan I threw in on impulse. I also exchange my sensible, comfortable, logical two-inch-heel sling-back pumps for a killer pair of black stilettos. Sure, they're a little over the top, but I look hot in these shoes. After touching up my make-up I give myself the once over in the full length mirror on the bathroom door. Yeah. I look good. All right, Josh. Eat your heart out.

I know the moment she walks into the lounge. The two guys next to me stop their conversation, fixate on her and then watch her walk the entire length of the room. I want to send the universal signal for, "Back the hell off…she's mine!" but I'm not altogether sure she feels that way about me anymore. As soon as I shake the Neanderthal-like thoughts I'm having, I finally look at her. If it's possible, she's even more beautiful now than she was when she left.

Looking at her right now makes me forget why I never made a play for her in the first place. Right. She used to work for me. Then she didn't work for me and I treated her like shit. Except for that one very perceptive moment where I sort of told her that I missed her. A lot. Everyday. And now, she works for me again.

She's standing here next to me now, looking…nervous. And she's been standing here. I can do this. "Thanks for coming." See? That was nice, civil and polite. Three things I have not been to her in quite some time. But, she broke my heart when she left. Did I deserve it? Absolutely.

"Well, we definitely need to hash this thing out. It looks like we're going to be working together. Again." Her smile looks almost rueful. She sits down next to me and signals to the bartender. "I'd like a dirty martini please, three olives."

"No more whiskey sours?" I ask with a grin. I'm not sure how to talk to her anymore. Every time I try I end up acting like a jackass.

She simply says, "Nope."

The bartender slides her martini across the bar, winks at her, and then moves along when she seems disinterested. Inside, I'm doing back flips because while she smiled at him, she didn't _really_ smile at him.

We sit quietly for a moment. Then, "I never thought it would be this hard to be around you. What happened to us?" She delicately slides an olive off the toothpick and pops it into her mouth.

"You left me." Okay, so I sounded like a petulant child, there, but she got the message.

"Yes, I did." Well. I wasn't expecting that. I expected something along the lines of, "I didn't leave you, I left the job." But, it is what it is, right?

"You were right to leave, I think."

"You never just "think", Joshua. You operate in absolutes. Either you believe I was right to leave or you believe I was wrong to leave. But, you have to choose."

I set aside how it feels to hear her say my name that way. That's too complicated right now. She's gotten so strong. It's amazing what just a few months can do. "You're right. You were right to leave."

"I know." She sips at her drink. "It was a very hard decision. But, I had to make a change. I couldn't be your secretary forever." She has a hard time wrapping both her mind and her mouth around the word "secretary". I wonder why she chose that particular word.

"You were never my secretary, Donna."

"I know."

"When did you stop loving me?" I'm mentally banging my head on the bar right now. I didn't mean to ask her that. We've never talked about it before. Seven years of dancing and we've managed to never, ever, talk about it. And now, after months of treating her like she's somehow of less consequence to me now, I've decided that the timing was appropriate to ask her a question using a declaration I only suspect to be true.

I'm startled by the question, but not shocked. We've never talked about it, but we've both always known. "I never stopped loving you. But I couldn't do it anymore. Day in, day out. How I felt about my work was affecting how I felt about you. When I realized that I wasn't in love with you anymore I knew it was time to go."

"What?"

"What?"

"You never stopped loving me but you realized you weren't in love with me anymore?"

"Josh—"

"Please, Donna. If we don't do this now, we're never going to do it." When did he get to be mister in-touch-with-his-feelings? Okay, fine.

"I do love you. I was *in* love with you, for a while. Gaza happened and you were there…it was tragic and perfect all at the same time. Then, when I came back it all started to come apart. We weren't us anymore. We were two separate entities coexisting in the same space. The work wasn't challenging, I wasn't moving up, making progress. I was angry at you; I thought you were holding me back on purpose. That anger stole the love. All I was left with was the remainder. The residual. The feeling of loving someone after being in love with them. It's the difference between wanting to share a laugh with someone and wanting to share a life with them."

Her speech was so impassioned. I have never wanted to kiss her more than I do right now. But now's not a good time. Aside from the fact that we're in a bar, she's just confessed that while she loves me, she doesn't love me like she used to. I've got to say something to her. I've got to tell her how much she meant to me.

"You were so constant. I knew that no matter what I ever did to you, you'd be there." She looks hurt. That's definitely not what I was going for. "It's true that you always hurt the ones you love. We hurt the people we love because we know that they'll always be there. It doesn't matter how much you hurt them because their love is supposed to heal it. But, then you left. You were supposed to fix it, and you left."

"I can't fix something that isn't broken, Josh." She says quietly. "What you felt for me wasn't what I felt for you. We were playing the same game by different rules. In order for your theory to work we would have had to love each other the same way." She takes a deep breath and long sip of her drink. "The way I felt about you was unhealthy." _What?_ "What I felt for you went beyond loving you and being in love with you. It was hero worship. You saved me, time and time again. You gave me a job when I needed one most. Then I left and came back and you let me have my job back. You gave me friendship when I felt like I didn't fit in. When you were sick you needed someone and you let me pretend that you needed me. You came to me when I needed someone. You came before I knew I needed anyone. You are strong, smart and powerful—emotionally, physically and mentally." Another deep breath and another long drink. "What I felt for you was all consuming and it ate me alive."

I was wrong. I have never wanted to kiss her more than I want to at this moment. I have also never had this strong a desire to make love to someone. That speech of hers was more arousing than visual stimulus could ever be.

"You don't know what it's like to feel like that. You'll never know what it was like for me to feel you walk into a room. To know what you were going to say before you said it. To empathize with you so completely that I lost how I felt."

And, as long as we're laying it all on the line here…"You don't know what it's like to want someone so badly that you physically ache for them to touch you. To want them so badly that everything they say or do leaves you in a constant state of arousal. That hearing their name, seeing a picture or smelling their cologne can send a lightening bolt through you. And you don't know what it's like to try to hide as much of that as you can from everyone and know that there's still so much you can't hide that is completely obvious and that no one could possibly understand what it's really all about." I take a deep breath and drain my cocktail. "That's what it was like to be in love with you, Joshua Lyman. And that's why, when it came apart, I had to go."

With that, I stand and walk out on very shaky legs. There's no going back now.

She's likely halfway to her room before I've processed all of that. I have this gaping hole in my chest where my heart is supposed to be and the biggest hard-on I think I've ever had in my life. Is it wrong that I'm aroused by the things she had to say? How can a love like that not be arousing? We need to finish this conversation. I have to tell her how I feel about her. But somehow I think anything I could say would pale in comparison to her impassioned diatribe.

How do I feel about her? And really, how does she feel about me now? She says she still loves me, but that she's not in love with me anymore. That's got to be one of those female distinctions I'd better get a grip on if I have any chance of making this right. And, if she felt that strongly for me before, is it possible for her to trust me enough to lose herself in me that much again? Would she want to lose herself again? Do I want that?

She's right. I've never felt those things she described before. Sadly, not even for her. I do love her. And, if ever I was going to love someone like that, I would bet that it would be and could be only her. I've never had a relationship with a woman that I would call wholly functional. But, the relationship I had with Donna, despite the years of repression, is probably the closest thing to a functional relationship I've ever had. She's definitely the longest relationship I've ever had.

But if I'm going to pursue this I have to be willing to accept the kind of love she described—even if only at a fraction of the original intensity. And what would that feel like if she thought she could share it with me?

I'm barely in my room before I'm sobbing and ripping my clothes off. I need complete and total release. The tears are starting to cleanse my soul, but what I really need is to come. By the time I reach the bed, my sweater and my bra have been hastily discarded, my shoes may or may not have made it into the room, and my slacks are unbuttoned and falling further down my legs with each step I take. I kick them all the way off and fling myself onto the bed. This is not going to be soft and gentle. Still, I'm crying loud, sucking sobs that have me close to hyperventilation. My left hand is pinching and rolling my nipples and my right is buried between my legs furiously frigging my clit. As I approach my orgasm I abandon all thoughts of my breasts. My left hand pumps methodically in and out in a counter rhythm to the hard circles my right hand is crushing on my clit. Thirty seconds more is all it takes before I'm coming hard, sobbing, Josh's name fading on my lips.

She's been gone for twenty minutes now. How long should I give her before I find her and finish this conversation? I know she left because she had to. She was only moments away from crying. I hate that I can do that to her. She deserves so much more than I can give her.

And now it's starting all over. I'm her boss. Again. Lou couldn't leave well enough alone. And I can't fire Donna just so I can have a relationship with her. Do I want to have a relationship with her?

There has always been something between the two of us. Sexual tension, for sure. How can two people walk and talk like we did, banter like we did, and not just know that we'd be perfect in bed? I've had a crush on her ever since the stamp project. I fell in love with her after Rosslyn. She was so strong. An absolute and constant force when my world seemed to be imploding. She made rules in a world that didn't seem to have any. She enforced rules and kept me safe after I was most vulnerable.

But, I'm scared of what having a relationship with Donnatella Moss would mean. I have a feeling that would be that all consuming love she was talking about. Right now I have the boundary lines in my head that help me keep my distance. If I were to allow myself to really look at her, touch her, be touched by her…well, I think that would be a point of no return.

And then, what happens when it falls apart. All my relationships do. I know I'm not an easy man to be with. My work is my life. It's my world. It's the one thing that I've always wanted. It comes first. Every woman in my life has played a distance second to my career. Would Donna? Is what we could have together different than what I've had with other women? If it's not, does she love me enough to not be the most important thing in my life? And doesn't she deserve to be the most important thing in her partner's life?

And then there's the age thing. I'm fourteen years older than she is. When we're working together it doesn't matter. As friends it doesn't matter. But if we were in a relationship…it would matter. I don't like to go the places a woman her age would like to go. And then there's the matter of kids. I don't even know that I want any. I mean, how much of a father could I be spending sixteen hours a day on the hill and another four gearing up for the next? How much of a husband could I be?

Yeah. Donna and I definitely need to talk.

I can't believe that conversation happened. In a way it's good because at least now it's out there. But, how will I ever be able to look at him again? Especially not knowing how he feels. If he felt even a little of what I felt, then maybe this will be okay. But, if I've been misreading signals then I'd better just pack up and go back to my parents now.

Part of me wants to go to him and ask him how he feels. Just so I'll know. But, I think it's a really bad idea to hunt him down when I smell like sex. I think it's probably a bad idea to hunt him down anyway. God, I need a shower. And room service.

I'm going to have to complain about this hotel. The high school kid working the desk thought that giving Donna's room number to me would violate their privacy policy. It took him fifteen minutes to track someone down with enough authority to read the number off the little screen for me. But, now, almost forty minutes after Donna left me sitting in the hotel bar I'm armed with enough information to find her.

When I approach her door, number 426, I'm nervous. I'm not yet sure what I'm going to say. Donna's one of my best friends. I've always been able to talk to her about anything. Now, though, there's this big white elephant in the room because she's bared her soul to me. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad she did. I may go the rest of my life never having someone feel that way about me and it's somehow comforting to know that someone actually can feel that intensely for me.

After another minute or so of collecting myself I finally find the courage to knock on her door.

I hear the knock at the door and I'm expecting my raspberry cheesecake with peach sorbet. But when I pull the door open there's Josh. Somehow he's better than the cheesecake, but I'm fighting slight disappointment. Not to mention horrific embarrassment. "Hi." My best friend and I don't even know what to say to him. "Come on in." I wave him in. He comes into the room like he's always come into my hotel rooms…like he owns the place. He takes off his suit jacket and throws it over the wingback chair next to the small dinette table and flops down on the bed leaning against the headboard. I'm suddenly very aware that I'm wearing on my hotel issue robe and have my hair bound up in a towel. "Um, give me just a sec to change. If room service knocks, would you answer it, please?"

"Sure."

Donnatella Moss is a beautiful woman. She answered the door wearing a robe, her hair up in one of the towel turban things that defy the laws of gravity which no man can pretend to understand, face rosy from her recent shower. She invited me in to her room and habit kicked in. I was settled against the headboard of her bed before I realized that that probably wasn't appropriate anymore. Hell, it probably wasn't all that appropriate when I used to do it. While I'm berating myself for my forwardness, she politely excuses herself to change her clothes. Damn. That could have been interesting.

She's only gone for a minute or two but when she comes out of the bathroom she's just as put together as anyone could expect her to be. In jeans and a T-shirt, wet hair pulled up in one of those claw-clip thingies…she's still a raving beauty. "What are you doing here, Josh?"

"I thought we should finish talking. I…uh…wanted to give you a moment alone, though, before we continued."

"That was kind of you, but I think I've said everything there is to say."

"Maybe, but I haven't." I contemplate her for a moment then pat the space on the bed next to me. "Sit down, we'll talk like we used to." She does sit down next to me. Sits no closer to me nor any farther away than she ever did. I offer her my hand, palm up. She studies it for one heartbeat, then two. Very gently she places her hand atop mine so our fingers align. I relish the connection for a minute and then thread our fingers together. I keep looking at our hands.

"Josh?" She asks quietly.

"I've been thinking a lot about you and me." I can't look at her right now so I keep staring at our joined hands. "You were right before when you said that I didn't know what it was like to feel the way you felt for me. But, I did have…I do have feelings for you. I do love you Donna. And I know you don't think so, but being the most constant thing in my life really is a compliment. I know I'm not an easy man to deal with, but you've always been around. Even when I was at my worst I knew I could count on you to be there.

"I don't know what I want and I'm not sure what I'm ready for. All I know for sure is I can't stand to watch you walk out of my life again. I've been treating you the way I've been treating you because I was hurt. I never really expected you to leave. You were supposed to be my constant, Donna. Don't you understand?"

I hits me like a ton of bricks when he says it. He's used to being left and I was the one person who absolutely stood by him no matter what. I was the one person in the last half dozen years that hadn't somehow left him. And then, I did leave him. And in his frame of thinking, I did it with no warning. Eventually I could probably get him to admit he's at least a little at fault for putting me off for so long when I wanted to talk to him about leaving. But I hardly think now is the time to point that out. He's hurting and he's bearing his soul to me. We needed to do this. We've got seven years of pent up emotions that have been threatening to boil to the surface the entire time.

"And, Donna, I have to admit that this whole thing is throwing me for a loop. Now we're working together again and it's all so complicated."

"It's us, Josh. It's never going to be easy. But I can promise you that I'll never walk out on you like that again."

I have to look into her eyes when she says that to me. I know Donna wouldn't lie, but I need to see the truth in her eyes. I see it there. "I know."

"I don't know what to do now."

"Me either." And I really don't. How do you go back to being friends when you've both admitted deeper feelings? And how do I get back to a point where I can operate in absolutes?


	2. One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

_**Author's Note: I'm posting my other works to FF that never quite made it here. This was posted at B4A and on my website, way back when it was written. That was... 2005.**_

_**December 31, 2010 - Edited for section breaks and grammar.**_

* * *

Three days ago Josh and I finally had the talk that we've needed to have for the last, oh—five years, or so. Two and a half days ago, Lou sent me to New Mexico to work on message with the state campaign headquarters. Consequently, and only because of hair brained scheduling, I haven't talked to Josh since he left my hotel room that night. I'm actually starting to worry now that maybe I shouldn't have said anything. I'm constantly worried that I've ruined a good thing even though Josh said he's glad to know. Of course, I'm not really sure you could call what Josh and I have had for the last few months "a good thing". As a matter of fact, I'd probably call it a bad thing.

But anyway, since I haven't talked to him in three days and I'm starting to worry that I've screwed things up, I've decided to call him when I get back to the hotel tonight. There is three hours difference between us. With any sort of luck I'll make it back to my room before eight. Of course, I'm not a lucky woman.

I finally do make it back to the room at ten o'clock. But, my resolve is steady. I'm going to call Josh tonight. We definitely need to talk. We can't have a big, life changing talk like the one we had the other night and not follow it up with a testing the waters kind of talk, can we?

His cell phone only rings twice before he answers. "Josh Lyman." Oh, I think I woke him up.

"Hey, it's me."

"Donna? What's wrong? Aren't you in Utah?"

"New Mexico. Nothing's wrong, I just wanted to talk to you."

"It's one a.m., Donna."

"I know. I'm sorry I woke you up, it's just—" It's just nothing. And now that I've called and woken him up, I'm afraid that I've crossed some sort of line since I'm not his girlfriend or, well, I don't know. I need to know what the boundaries are. Oh. Okay. "I need to know what the boundaries are, Josh."

"Huh?" He's real articulate in the middle of the night.

"Boundaries, Joshua. What are they? I mean, when am I allowed to call? How often? What am I allowed to talk to you about when I do call?"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Boundaries."

"Yeah, I got that much. I just don't understand what you're talking about."

"How can you go from being the sensitive, caring, perceptive, understanding guy you were the other night to this…regular Joe?" Now I'm just flustered.

"Donna," I can practically hear him running his hand through his hair, "There aren't any boundaries. You can call whenever you want, as often as you want, to talk about whatever you want. You are my best friend. I will put up with you at any given time for any given reason because despite your propensity to call at the most inconvenient moments, I love you." He does? I mean, I know he does, but is he just going to go around saying it willy-nilly now? Because I don't think I can handle that. "Donna?" That's just not fair. I bear my soul, he tells me he's not sure what he wants and then just tells me that he loves me? How am I supposed to read that? "Donna!"

"What?"

"You had something you wanted to talk about. Other than boundaries, I mean, because really, who would call at one in the morning to talk about boundaries?"

"I'm afraid I've screwed things up."

"You've only been in Arizona for two days. How badly could you have screwed up the message we've been crafting for months?"

"New Mexico and I'm not talking about the goddamned campaign, Josh! I'm talking about you and me."

"Oh. Give me a little leeway here, Donna. I was sleeping for the first time in two days."

"Look, this obviously isn't a good time to talk—"

"No. No way, Donnatella. You brought it up; we're going to talk about it. I'm not going to start the next seven years off the way we spent the last." Next seven years? "You haven't screwed anything up. I'm the one who asked you to come down and have a drink with me. I anticipated when I made the invitation, that there would be— you know— talking involved."

"I don't want to screw this up though, and I'm not even sure what this is! I tell you everything and you come back to me with 'I'm not sure what I want'. Well, okay Josh, be unsure about what you want because the truth is I'm not sure what I want either!" Now I'm just upset.

"Are you breaking up with me?" He pauses, I have no answer. "How can you break up with me when we aren't even dating?"

"Then obviously I'm not breaking up with you!"

"Why are you yelling at me? Until about six minutes ago I was sleeping, content in the fact that I had my best friend back. Then, six minutes ago, supposed best friend calls, all insecure, and before I know what's happening, said best friend flies off the deep end and tries to end a relationship that has even started!"

"Hasn't started?" What! "Hasn't started?" I'm sputtering. "What do you mean 'hasn't started'? I'd say that we're smack dab in the middle of something Joshua Lyman. Hasn't started. Are you trying to piss me off? And what do you mean 'flying off the deep end'? These are valid concerns, Josh! I want to know that I haven't ruined what is potentially the best relationship of my life!"

"You want to know if you've ruined a relationship I told you I wasn't sure I was ready for or even wanted?"

Oh, we are so done talking.

"Donna?" What the hell? "Donna!" She hung up on me! What the hell just happened here? Well, I'm wide awake now. And, I think Donna just broke up with me. Can she do that? And why the hell is she so mad at me? There's only one person who can help me solve this. I dial the number and wait.

"Sierra, just bring whatever you think you're supposed to bring. For the last time, I don't care!"

Okay, not the response I was expecting. "Don't you have caller ID anymore?"

"Josh?"

"The one and only. And who is Sierra?"

"She's…well, as stupid as it feels to say this at 40, she's my girlfriend."

"And what exactly is she bringing over?" I'm letting my voice imply things here…he gets very flustered when I do that.

"For me to know and all of that. Isn't it like one o'clock there? And where are you anyway?" Well, that was no fun.

"DC. Campaign headquarters for the moment. And yes, it's one o'clock. I just had a very disturbing conversation and I'm not sure what happened. I need help."

"Donna?"

"How would you know that?"

"Josh, we've been friends for twenty years. The last decade of which—"

"I'm just going to interrupt you for a moment, Sam, to say that it definitely has not been a decade."

"Anyway, the last seven years of which you've been in love with your assistant. Now that said assistant is no longer your assistant, well, you're free to feel unbossly like feelings for her."

"I'm pretty sure 'unbossly' isn't a word."

"You wanted help?"

"Yeah. Continue."

"Of course, I'm a little confused because the last segment of the saga I got had her asking for a job and you not giving her one."

"Yeah, well, my great luck has her working on the campaign anyway. Hired by Lou the meddler who doesn't care about the list of women we're not allowed to hire."

"The list of women you're not allowed to hire because you either dated them or romantically offended them in some way?"

"Yeah, that list."

"And, 'Lou the meddler'?"

"Shut up."

"So tell me what happened."

"We finally talked, Sam. And she told me things. Intimate things about feelings and how they were all consuming and that's why she had to leave."

"I have a feeling that you're paraphrasing down by like five thousand words."

"That's the gist of the whole thing. Anyway, I tell her I'm not sure what I want, that I'm not sure what I'm ready for. I tell her that I can't watch her walk out of my life again, she says she won't. Then we both agree that we're not sure what to do."

"Okay. Well, it sounds like you solved nothing."

"Not true. We solved all sorts of things. Like now I know how she feels about me. Or, felt about me. Since she doesn't feel that way anymore. By the way, do you understand the concept of loving someone but not being in love with them?"

"Sure."

"Did I miss that day in law school, or what?"

"It's not that complicated Josh. One is about wanting to share things with a person and the other is about wanting to share your whole existence with them."

"That's sort of what she said…but there was something about laughter." Why does it seem like I'm the only guy on earth who can't get a handle on the whole relationship thing? "And so anyway, she calls me tonight to ask me about boundaries and then she breaks up with me because I'm not sure what I want so she's decided she's not sure what she wants either."

"Broke up with you? I didn't even know you were together."

"Me either! And when I asked her if she could even break up with me when we weren't together she gets mad. She yells and then I tell her I'm not sure how she can end a relationship that hasn't even started. She starts talking about ruining the best relationship of her life. I asked her why she wanted to know if she had ruined a relationship I told I wasn't sure I was ready for or even wanted. Then, she hung up on me."

"You made a tactical error, there, Buddy."

"I know that. What I need to know is exactly what I did wrong and what it's going to take the fix it. Because she's coming back here in four days and I don't think it's going to be pretty."

"You don't know what you did?"

"Is this going to be one of those 'If you don't know what you did I'm not going to tell you' things? Cause if so, I could really just call Donna back."

"Josh. Focus. Really, you've got me for about fifteen more minutes."

"Okay. Go ahead. Tell me how I screwed up, Dr. Phil."

"The absolute wrong thing to say after all of that was to ask her why she was worried about ruining a relationship that you weren't even sure you wanted. I'm guessing she completely bared her soul in that original conversation. You, in a strange moment of perception listened and responded in healthy and thoughtful way. Then, when she starts to feel insecure, when she starts to worry that maybe she put too much pressure on you…That maybe she told you things you weren't comfortable with…She thought maybe she had ruined your relationship. Your friendship, Josh. And all its other weird idiosyncrasies. You respond immediately like a man who feels trapped or persecuted would. You told her you weren't even sure you wanted a relationship. The relationship she was worried about, and I'm about 95% sure on this, was your friendship. You went and drug the possible romantic relationship into the whole thing and killed any and all hope she had for a real relationship with you. She responded by getting mad instead of getting sad. To fix it? I don't know…you guys always did real well with the talking." Was that sarcasm? "Why don't you try that? And try to have more of an open mind than you did before, huh?"

"Admit it Sam, you're actually a woman trapped in a man's body."

"Thank you for demeaning my masculinity, Josh. Understanding how women work doesn't make me less of a man than you. It makes me less single than you. Call Donna. I'll talk to you later."

"Bye, Sam."

"Later."

I guess I'd better call Donna back. The truth of the matter is I am worried about what's going to happen with us. I'm not sure I want a relationship with anyone let alone a relationship with her. We've got this history. It's not really a bad history. We were great together—as boss and assistant. Our personal lives together were a mess. Shouldn't that be some kind of sign? If we couldn't even get it together back then when we were practically on top of one another eighteen hours a day, what makes us thing that we can get it together when we're unlikely to even be in the same state more than about twelve days a month?

What I feel for Donna is different than what I have felt for any other woman. I don't know what to do with that. Intellectually I know that Donna's worried that her tell all has spooked me. But, it didn't. It really didn't. I am glad to know how she feels. How she felt. And I'm a little heartbroken that she doesn't feel that way for me anymore. No, I don't know what I want. I just know that I can't imagine the rest of my life without Donna in it. I'm just not sure in what capacity she belongs there.

It's like Donna and I have been dancing around this thing since we met. But things never come together the way they should. We take one step forward then two steps back. But I don't know how to deal with this insecure Donna anymore. She hasn't been this way in a long time. And last time we talked, so was so strong. So sure about the way she felt. And now it's like I've got that young, coltish girl in my office all over again. Don't get me wrong. I was enamored with her then, instantly. But as she gained confidence and knowledge she started to exude this powerful sexuality. Oh, she's had her moments over the last many years when it was like being around that girl again, but they were brief and rarely interfered with what was going on with us. I hate that I have the power to turn her into the same kind of woman that Dr. Freeride turned her into. That doesn't say very good things for me, does it?

I should have kissed her that night in the bar when I first had the impulse to. Of course, I'm a little afraid of where that would have led. I've fantasized about making love to Donna for a long time. But when you've got that much mentally invested into something there's a very real risk that it won't live up to expectations. But, it's me and Donna. There's no way it could be anything less than amazing. We were made to fit together somehow. And it's hard not to imagine that we'd be just as good in bed as we are in the office.

She told me that night, in no uncertain terms, that there was a time when she wanted me. I wonder if she purposely used the past tense to protect herself or if she really doesn't want me anymore. Part of me can't help but think that if we were to just do it, finally, that maybe it would fix this thing. Maybe we'd be so good at it that it would help me make up my mind about what I really want. Or maybe, and this is a very minimal possibility, we'd be so bad at it that it would help both of us disengage a little bit.

It's true that I don't know what I want—ultimately. But it's also true that I love Donna more than I ever thought it was possible to love a woman. I am afraid of that love she had for me. If it's all consuming, doesn't it take a part of who you are away? Can you still be the same people in a relationship if you're both so crazy in love with the other person that you start to lose who you are? And I still don't know about being a husband and a father. Assuming that's what she wants. I don't even know what she wants. Yeah, I definitely need to call Donna back.

I can't believe how that conversation went. I tried to hold it together when I got off the phone with him, but I couldn't. I finally stopped crying five minutes ago. I handled that badly. I yelled at him after I backed him into a corner…I did things that I have warned my friends not to do. I should call him back to apologize. Of course, he may not want to talk to me right now. I wouldn't blame him. What happened to me? I haven't been that way in a long time. He was right when he called me insecure. I was feeling insecure, but that's no excuse for the way I reacted. I knew what he meant. And then I forced him to defend himself by saying things I know weren't exactly what he meant.

I'm startled when the phone rings. It's him. Oh, thank God. "Josh, I'm so sorry." I answer.

"No, Donna. It was me, I'm sorry."

I laugh a little at the ridiculousness of this. "Let's just say it was both of us."

"Okay." His voice is low and soothing. This is how he used to sound when we'd talk late at night. I missed this voice. It's raspy, a little edgy. "I think that we have a lot more talking to do. When do you come home?"

"Day after tomorrow. It's not going to be any easier when I get there. I still work for you."

"We work for the Congressman. I just run the campaign. Let's think of it like that for now. It's not how it used to be, Donna. And if we do get into the Whitehouse…" he trails off.

"I won't be working for you." I finish. I'm not going back to being Josh's assistant. I can't. Not after all of this. Not after everything that happened.

"What are your plans for after?"

"After the election?"

"Mm-hmm"

"I don't know yet. I'll stay in DC, I guess. Politics is in my blood now. I can't imagine giving it up. I should probably finish my degree…it's hard to be an operative without some sort of education to back you up."

"You want to be an operative?" He sounded all proud and cocky there.

"Yeah. I have no desire to be an assistant forever and I don't think I want to run for office. I like being in the trenches. You taught me to love the good fight, Joshua."

"I really am sorry for tonight, Donna. I'm not trying to hurt you."

"I know you're not. We just seem to be able to hurt each other without making much of an effort."

"When you get home we'll work this thing out, okay?"

"I don't think we're going to be able to work this entire thing out in one sitting."

"Well, we'll at least try to make a step forward."

"All right. Good night, Josh."

"Good night, Donnatella." He pauses, and just as I'm about to hang up he says, "Love you."

"I love you too, Joshua. Sleep well." And then we disconnect.


	3. Parry and Thrust

_**Author's Note: I'm posting my other works to FF that never quite made it here. This was posted at B4A and on my website, way back when it was written. That was... 2005.**_

**_December 31, 2010 - Edited for section breaks and grammar._**

* * *

Wow, I'm nervous. Josh and I finally decided to get together at his place when I got back into town. I've been here a hundred times before. I know his home nearly as well as I know my own. I've never been nervous walking into his condo before. But this time is different. We're going to talk more about what's happening between us. Josh and I were never good at talking about this thing. It has taken me all this time just to tell him how I felt about him. It was both harder and easier than I thought it was going to be. The entire time I was talking to him I was worried that I was ruining that amazing dynamic between us—or what had, at one time, been an amazing dynamic. But once I started talking I couldn't stop. I had this sudden need to express myself. My sister, Vie, used to call it verbal vomit.

And then there was what will forever be referred to as the Thursday Night Conversation. After everything, Josh still told me that he loved me. But he still doesn't know what he wants. He still doesn't know if he wants a relationship. I don't know if I'll ever feel that way about him again. I feel like I'm beating this whole thing to death. Neither one of us are sure where it's going and neither one of us are sure that we'll be able to get back to a place where an actual relationship is a possibility. Maybe we just waited too long. Maybe the time has passed and now is our opportunity to salvage a friendship out of this whole mess.

And then he answered the door. When I haven't seen him, even for a few days, it's easy to forget a little what it's like to look at him. He's beautiful. He'd hate it if I told him that. "Hi." He's using that voice again. That low and sultry, makes me want to pin him to a wall, voice.

"Hey." I have to touch him. Just once. I step into his entryway and he pushes the door closed behind me. I turn to face him and whisper, "Forgive me," before I step into him. As if he knows, he wraps an arm around my waist, hand closing securely over my ribs, and cups the back of my head in his free hand. My arms are wrapped haphazardly around him, trying to gain as much purchase as possible without making this inappropriate.

She wants me to forgive her for this? It's been a long time since we've held each other. I don't ever remember not hugging Donna. When she came to me she needed that kind of reassurance. Out of that was born the kind of relationship where we hugged and touched and were generally rather free with our affections. She told me once about a study she read that said that women required a certain amount of touches everyday. Ever since then I've tried to make an effort to touch her at least once. Boundaries there were, of course, but we always seemed more—tactile—than the others.

She's warm and soft, pressed up against me. I can't resist pressing a kiss against her hair line. I can feel her heart beating against my chest. I don't think it's possible for us to be any closer together than we are right now. We're pressed together from chest to thigh and it just feels...right. How on earth could she ever ask me to forgive her for something this perfect?

I want to kiss her so badly right now. I seem to be fighting that urge a lot lately. But I know, judging by her mood and mine, and the lack of physical closeness here of late, that a kiss would just lead to me taking her to bed. And, despite the fact that sex may very well just clear this whole thing up—I don't think that's the best course of action. But because I can't resist her when she's like this, I press another kiss to her hairline, one to her temple and then drop a kiss on her shoulder before I release her.

Her skin, what I can see of it, is flushed slightly pink. Yes, a kiss would only have led to one place. And even though I'd like nothing more than bury myself between her thighs, we really need to talk. She looks into my eyes, looks for all the world like she's about to kiss me. Oh no. "Thanks for coming." There. Spell broken.

She only looks a little disappointed. "I'm glad we're doing this." She flushes a little. "Talking, I mean."

"I am too." I nod toward the living room, offering a silent invitation. She takes it, preceding me into the room.

I sit down and wait. Josh sits in the arm chair next to the couch, where I'm sitting. He's looking at me, softly, expectantly. It's nice and sweet but, I can't take this anymore. "Who in the hell are we, Josh?" Wow, that came out a lot louder than I intended.

"What?" He sounds slightly panicked. Of course, I did just completely change the tone of the entire conversation.

"I mean, who are we? Because these two people we've been for the last week are not the Josh Lyman and Donna Moss that we used to be. There used to be banter and teasing and snarking…there used to be some sort of chemistry! Then, I pour my heart out to you and all of a sudden we're Mr. and Mrs. Cleaver, just floating along, being polite, trying to figure out what the fuck we're supposed to do with our lives and it's not working, Josh! It's just not working!"

"This is definitely not what I had in mind when I said that we should talk some more."

"And that's another thing. When did you turn into Mr. In-Touch-With-His-Feelings? What happened to that brash, conceited, egotistical, do-no-wrong, steam-rolling, bull dog that I fell in love with? What happened to that strong, hard-headed, yells my name at the top of his lungs, struts and swaggers, insults me but makes my point, Josh Senator-Shove-Your-Legislative-Agenda-Up-Your-Ass Lyman?"

"Me?" He says, his voice rising to that fevered pitch it gets when he's being challenged. "What happened to my happy, optimistic, full of useless arcane knowledge, girl on a budget, wake me up in the mornings assistant?"

"I grew up, Joshua! I'm still happy. I'm relatively optimistic. What I'm full of, Joshua, is not useless, arcane knowledge, but trivia that is useful in a wide variety of situations. I'm not on such a budget anymore because I don't work for the federal government. I actually got to negotiate salary, and I did damn well for myself! And, I'm not your assistant anymore! I haven't been your assistant since CJ so helpfully pointed out that I needed to get myself the hell away from you!" Oh, this feels good. This is therapeutic. Cleansing, even.

"I don't know how to work with this new stuff, Donna! Our entire relationship was based on the fact that I was your boss and you were my assistant. Now, suddenly we're supposed to be equals and I'm supposed to know how to handle it?" Good, he's up and pacing now. Yelling. Running his hands through his hair. This Josh I know how to deal with.

"Yeah, well, I don't know how to handle it either! You're supposed to be giving me hell, insulting the men that I date, asking me to bring you coffee and turning down my very creative requests for a raise. But now, all of the sudden, I'm not even in the same room with supposed to bring you coffee and I don't need a raise! You're supposed to know more than me and explain the intricacies of the workings of the federal government to me. I'm not supposed to know about message and demographics and what polls well. But damn it, Josh, I do know about all of those things and you needed someone who does. I specialized, by God, and I did it quick, fast and in a hurry. And, I'll be damned, but I'm good at it. I have a real feel for this part of the process. I'm actually good at campaigning. Thanks in no small part to you!" I'm standing now and we're toe to toe.

"You're right, Donna! You are good at what you do. You don't need me anymore. How do you think I feel about that? You've always needed me and now you don't and I'm just supposed to go on and not miss that feeling?" He's still yelling. It takes the sting of the sensitivity out of his words. Of course, it also makes him incredibly hot. So I'm kissing him before I even realize that I've formed my rebuttal.

It's like the rest of the fight come out in this kiss. He yells, and then I yell, then him, then me. It's all parry and thrust and it's hot and wet and delicious. His hands are wrapped in my hair and my hands are on his chest, ready to push him away when this gets to be too much. As far as kisses go, it's more a power struggle than anything else. The fight is a draw when we break apart both gasping for air. Of course, the forcefulness of it all is softened by the fact that our foreheads are pressed together and my eyes are closed. His breath is hot and harsh on my face, my breathing is ragged. I grab the lapels of his suit to steady myself when I pull my face away from him.

That's the hottest thing that's ever happened to me in my life and I'm over forty. I definitely like grown-up Donna because this woman looking at me, chest heaving and eyes almost black from what I hope is arousal, is the sexiest woman I've ever had the pleasure to touch. "Wow." Is all I can think to say.

"Yeah, wow." She returns. I am so the man. "We so should have done that four years ago. Think how much that would have solved. I mean, I could have gotten my raise."

You mean that's all it took to get back the banter? She's right…we should have done this a long time ago. Like after the MS thing when everything started to fall apart. "We should have done that the night we won the election. Then I would have known I couldn't hire you as my assistant."

"What?" She sounds a little hurt.

"If I would have known that we'd be like that, I never would have had you assigned to me. If I had known that we were that good together I would have made damn sure we were able to be together."

"Oh, I don't know, Josh. Maybe we wouldn't have been that good if it wasn't for the last seven years. Pent up sexual frustration has a way of manifesting itself when it's at its peak."

"Donna, I swear to you I peaked at least a thousand times during the last seven years. Some days I peaked more than once." I smirk at her, "Besides, we definitely would have been that good back when we met."

"You think so?"

"I know so. Seven years of banter has been a substitute for not being able to do that."

"Banter as foreplay? I think I like that concept."

"Foreplay?" I think I sounded a little bit strangled there.

Oh, I so have him now. He sounds like his tie is way too tight right now. "Foreplay, Joshua, mutual sexual stimulation that takes place before intercourse. Foreplay."

"So you're saying that there's going to be intercourse? Because, you know, I'm good at the foreplay but—"

"Oh, there's definitely going to be intercourse." The look on his face is priceless. I almost hate doing this to him. Almost. "After we've been around each other long enough again to decide what this is actually going to be." And you can see the anticipation evaporate right before your eyes.

"So you're telling me there's going to be more talking before there's the actual sex? Because, I'm telling you Donna, it's a medical fact that there are limits to this foreplay thing. At some point there needs to be—you know—release."

"What I'm telling you, Josh—and thank you for that stimulating visual—" My God, he actually groaned, "is that we're going to try working together again, being friends again, and see what develops. If there's not going to be a relationship, if there's just going to be sex, that's fine. But I want to know what it's going to be before I do it."

"So there's definitely going to be sex?"

"Oh yeah, there is definitely going to be sex. There's going to be a lot sex in your relatively near future."

"I absolutely like grown up Donna."

"Good. Because she's making command appearances." I pick my purse up off the coffee table, my work here is done. "Walk me to the door, Joshua. I'm going to get some well deserved sleep and I'll see you first thing in the morning. Rumor has it that there's a big debate we've got to prepare for tomorrow."

"What?"

"Debate. Congressman Santos. Our jobs, ringing any bells?"

"What?"

Oh this is fun. "Never mind. Walk me out. Hopefully there will be blood flow to the brain by tomorrow. The Congressman is going to need you."

"You're leaving?"

"Oh, I'm absolutely leaving. You have a lot to think about. I'm going to catch a little shut eye and meet you at the office bright and early tomorrow morning. Now comes the fun part."

"Fun part?"

"Yeah. Now we get to see where this is going." I say this from the top of the stairs. He's leaning against the doorframe attempting to look smug. I'd say that the dazed look is completely ruining that for him. I lean in and kiss him one more time for good measure. This kiss feels like a mutual promise. His tongue is negotiating with mine. He's really good at this kissing thing. I break the kiss and then do something I've wanted to do for a long time. I take his earlobe gently between my teeth and give it a tempting tug. "See you at the office tomorrow." And then turn on my heels. I smile to myself as I hear him groan. Oh, yes, this is going to be so much fun.

It's debate day. I live for prepping candidates for debates. Even better than prepping candidates for debates? Prepping candidates for debates with Donna. And, you know—Lou. But, Donna. Ever since I found out there was going to be a lot of sex in my relatively near future, I've been a pretty happy guy. It's been a good eighteen hours.

I'm really proud of Donna. She has learned a lot since I hired her. Most of it, I discovered today, she didn't learn from me. There's no way she learned that stuff from me. She was so good she had my head spinning. The thing about Donna is that she remembers everything. Everything CJ, Toby, Sam, Leo, the President and I have ever told her has stuck with her. She accumulated all of that knowledge and became one hell of an impressive policy message craftsman.

The debate is on primetime at eight o'clock tonight. That gives the congressman just enough time to have a late lunch with his wife, meet with Harris, the DNC Chairman, interview with the Post and do last minute debate prep. I'm taking the meeting with Harris, Lou's taking the Post and we're all meeting at six thirty for the final debate stuff. That gives me enough time for lunch. Hopefully with Donna. I mean, how can we get to the lots of sex if we don't date. Right?

Holy shit. I'm going to date Donna. And how did I go from not sure what I want to dating Donna? Did just the mention of sex negate all the fears and worries I've had since last week's conversation? And she sounded more interested in the sex than she did the relationship. Oh great. After all of that last night, we still have to talk.

I've been working on debate prep with the Congressman, Josh and Lou since eight o'clock this morning. It's only one and I'm already both exhausted and starving. I have to say though, that Josh was amazing today. And, we work really well together. He listened to everything I had to say, agreed with almost all of it and convinced Congressman Santos to utilize most of it.

Thinking about Josh has always been—save for the last six months or so—a great pass time for me. I'm crazy about him. I'm a little afraid of him too. Not afraid of him in an 'I think he's going to hurt me' way, but I'm afraid of the way he can make me feel. Just a week back to a relative level of normalcy for us and I can already feel those old feelings surging back. I told him last night that if there wasn't going to be a relationship, if there was just going to be sex, that that was okay. I just wanted to know about it. But, I'm not okay with that. I'm not sure if I'll even take just the sex if that's all I can get. He seemed rather eager, though. Of course, we have amazing chemistry. I'm not surprised that he's intrigued by the idea of sex with me. I'm also flattered that he's that attracted to me.

But, I really do want more. I want all parts of Josh. Since it's apparent that I can't be around him and not have all consuming feelings for him, I'm going to either have to have a relationship with him or get the hell out of DC. Or at least out of the same social circles.

Speaking of social circles, I got a call from CJ the day after the Thursday Night Conversation. She heard through the grapevine that I was on the Santos campaign now. We're supposed to get together tomorrow night to catch up. I'm excited to see her, but I'm worried too. Really, things were never the same between us after the conversation during the lock-down. We weren't fabulous friends during my time with the Bartlet Administration. I socialized some with the senior staff, but not a lot. I wasn't part of that group. I'd hardly consider myself equal to CJ now, professionally speaking, but I'm definitely not where I once was. Thanks, in part, to her. So, I do want to see her. I don't have many friends in DC. I have my former co-workers, sure. And we were close. But I haven't spoken to anyone other than CJ or Josh since I left.

I wonder if Josh still talks to Sam. I wonder if Sam is okay. I even miss Toby and Leo who both secretly terrified me the entire time I worked at the Whitehouse. I'm sorry that I never got to know the President better—of course, I wasn't one of his advisors. I wish that the time I spent with Abbey Bartlet wouldn't have been punctuated by my embarrassing conversation with her the night I found out I was Canadian. I'm even sorry that my roommate, Kaitlyn, had to move out of our apartment almost a year ago. Though, I can't really say that we were ever friends. It doesn't look like I'm anywhere close to winning friends among the campaign staff. I'm still an outsider. And, it's apparent that I'm not going to spend a whole lot of time on home court until the election.

I'm still lost in thought, sitting in my make-shift office behind a folding table serving as a desk, when Josh saunters in and props himself up against the door jamb. "Want to get lunch?" Well, that wasn't the romantic invitation I was hoping for, but it'll do—I'm starving!

"Sure. You've only got ninety minutes until the thing with Harris so we'd better hurry." The look on his face stops me in the midst of gathering up my purse. "What?"

He steps into the room but stops before actually approaching me. His eyes are dark and his voice is low when he says, "Donna, that's not your job anymore."

I'm confused. "What, Josh?"

"It's not your job to look after me anymore. It's not your job to know my schedule, make sure I'm where I'm supposed to be when I'm supposed to be there."

"Are you mad at me for reading your schedule? I honestly didn't think you'd mind or I wouldn't have done it." Why is he so upset?

"No, of course not." He backs down a little and runs a hand through his hair. "I'm not mad that you were looking at my schedule. It's just that you don't have to do that anymore. You've got better things to do than keep track of me."

He's defending my honor. That's actually very sweet. "I didn't do it because I thought I had to. I didn't do it because I think that's what I'm fit for. I did it, Joshua," I'm standing in front of him now, "because I wanted to know what your day looking liked. Not because it's my job to look after you and make sure you're where you're supposed to be when you're supposed to be there, but because I like to take care of you in whatever small ways I can. If that involves knowing where you're supposed to be and when you're supposed to be there so I can make sure you actually get some food, then that's the way it is." I punctuate my little speech with a light kiss pressed to his lips. "No, it's not my job to worry about you, but I do it anyway." Another kiss. "Get used to it." This time, when I kiss him, I gently engage his tongue. This kiss we share is soft, slow, and romantic. It feels kinder and gentler than we have been to each other in a long time. It feels, for all the world, like a promise.


	4. A Comedy of Errors

_**Author's Note: I'm posting my other works to FF that never quite made it here. This was posted at B4A and on my website, way back when it was written. That was... 2005.**_

* * *

Something is bothering Josh. After his impromptu "make Donna feel better about herself" speech before lunch yesterday things just weren't quite…right. He was quiet during lunch—a state of being that Joshua Lyman is highly unfamiliar with.

This evening is one of three evenings off between now and the election. CJ and I are going out for drinks at eight. Of all the things my friend and I need to talk about, I hate to be the one to drag old irons into the fire…especially after hearing her opinion of the situation with Josh. But, she is probably my last remaining girlfriend. And, I'm sure she doesn't want to hear about it. Dilemmas, dilemmas. I guess the rule will be: if she brings him up, then we'll talk about him; if she doesn't, it's her subtle way of saying that she's through with the whole thing and I'll leave it alone.

I'm putting special care into my appearance tonight. It's very important that I look like I'm doing well for myself. Part of me feels as if I do need to prove to CJ what I'm capable of doing on my own. I had my hair trimmed again today. It's got more layers now, but I'm letting these dreadful bangs grow out. It seemed like a good idea to get the bangs at the time, but now I'm not feeling it. The new layers are working, though, they make me look older—something that is a commodity in this town.

My clothes are more expensive now. A by-product of being caught on camera so often. I feel this need to project a very put together image. I'm sure my candidate appreciates the effort. My suits are what might be referred to as "power-suits". Bold, sophisticated colors like black, navy blue, scarlet, and winter white. Tonight's suit is a black, four button, streamlined ensemble that, when worn without the powder blue blouse I had on earlier, does amazing things to my shape. I'll be the first to admit that I absolutely do not have a weight problem. I'm pleased enough with my waistline. It's my bust line that agonizes. But in this suit—this glorious BCBG slick black wool suit (and, of course, with the help of a wonderbra)—I have a figure that's to die for. The skirt is my favorite kind, a pencil cut. I have these really amazing black and silver Steve Madden heels. As if I wasn't tall enough, they add about three and a half inches to my height—now I'm seriously statuesque.

My hair and make up is the biggest change, though. My hair used to be almost a white blond, straight cut—you know, demure. But now it's slightly darker, messier, sexier. My makeup is bolder, smokier. In short, I'm Donnatella Moss, the woman. The woman that Josh seems so fond of.

I will admit that there is a slight possibility that I know where Josh is taking Sam tonight after his flight gets in. And, I will admit that there is a slight possibility that CJ and I made plans to be in that very same lounge. Of course, I'll also admit that the original plan called for CJ to be long gone by the time Josh and Sam arrived. Said original plan called for CJ and me to meet at six. So, we'll see how this goes.

*************************

I haven't seen Donna since yesterday. I sort of flipped out on her. But when I heard her talk to me like she was my assistant again, it took me back to that unpleasant place where things were so mixed up between us. I was more upset by the feeling of insecurity that dredged up than I was about the fact that it seemed like she was putting herself back in that old place.

Our lunch conversation was practically non-existent. My fault entirely. She kissed me. Repeatedly. And we're very good at the kissing. It feels like we've been doing it for a long time.

She thinks I don't know that she and CJ are meeting at the same place Sam and I are going after I pick him up at the airport. I'm looking forward to seeing her tonight. I'm also looking forward to being able to sit around like we used to—CJ, Sam, Donna and me. It's going to be great to have friends again.

I'm also slightly nervous about tonight. I'm going to ask Sam to leave a highly successful private practice to write for the campaign of someone I'm not entirely sure is the real thing. Don't get me wrong, I have great faith in Matt Santos. The problem is he doesn't seem to have great faith in himself. I'm honestly not sure how we're going to win an election with a candidate who seems befuddled by the fact that we've actually gotten this far. That's why I need Sam. I need someone who can shape the big ideas of the Congressman's into words that can convey his power to potential voters. Next to Toby, Sam's the best. Sam's my best friend. And after everything that's happened with Toby, I don't think he'd be the wisest decision.

I'm sitting in one of those high-backed airport restaurant chairs when I see him enter the gate, garment bag slung over one shoulder, cell phone pressed to his ear. I have to smile a little—he never changes. I'm nervous about asking Sam to join the campaign because I'm not sure that he'll say yes. Above and beyond his law practice he's got what appears to be a very serious relationship going with one Sierra Parry—interior designer extraordinaire. She seemed great when I talked to her a couple of nights ago. Evidently Ms. Parry spends a lot of time at Sam's house.

He spots me, waves me back into my seat and starts to head my way. The sheer number of people at National astounds me. So it's not surprising when it takes him about five minutes to traverse the hundred and fifty feet that separate us. I would have just barged right though, but Sam is much more polite than I am. When he finally reaches me he sets his garment bag down on the high coffee table I'm seated at, tells the person on the other end of the line that he loves them and he'll call later (I'm going to take a leap and say he was talking to Sierra). He snaps his phone shut, grins at me and pulls me out of my chair and into a hug. I can't help but laugh.

"Hey buddy!"

He steps back from me. "You look happy."

"Thank you. So do you."

"Sierra's very good for me. Donna good for you?"

"Don't you know it. We're going to run into her and CJ tonight."

"Run into them?" He picks his garment bag when I incline my head in the direction of the exit. "What do you mean?"

"Donna doesn't know I know she made plans to meet CJ at the Royal Vinter."

He grins when I tell him this. "Ah, but that's where we're going."

"That's something we all know. Things were a little awkward between us yesterday. I think creating this opportunity for us to 'run into' one another is her way of ensuring that we get together without making a thing of it."

"You mean you're still not together-together?"

"I take it back. You're not a woman trapped in a man's body—you're a teenage girl trapped in a man's body."

"Josh, answer the damn question." But he's still grinning at me.

"No, we're not together yet." I grin back at him. "But we're getting there."

***********************

"I love this place." CJ says after we're shown to a table. "It's like stepping back in time fifty years."

She's right. The lighting is low, there's a guy in the corner playing piano and an older woman singing the standards. A small dance floor has been fashioned in front of them. There are already, at this early hour, three couples out there swaying back and forth to "You Belong To Me". When the duo breaks into "It Had To Be You", one of the couples leaves the floor, temples together, hands clasped, trying hard to stare into one another's eyes while navigating through the sea of tables. Josh and I will never be like that. Oh, I'm sure at some point we'll dance. And we'll probably gaze longingly into each other's eyes, but we'll never be that couple that leaves the dance floor with their temples pressed together, hands entwined, oblivious to the world around us. I used to want that. I'm suddenly okay with the fact that the man that I've fallen in love with isn't going to be that kind of guy.

"Donna?"

Oh, right, CJ. "I'm sorry…I was kind of lost in thought." I smile at her. "I love it here too. I came across this place just after they opened and I just fell in love. I don't get much occasion to come here, though."

"Me either."

Thankfully, the waitress chooses this moment to interrupt us. The conversation, while pleasant, seems stressed. "What would you ladies like tonight?" She asks us genially.

CJ orders a amaretto sour and I order my new usual dirty martini. She gives me the same look that Josh gave me when I ordered it the night of the verbal vomit. Isn't the imagery just beautiful? The waitress leaves us to place the order which leaves me to concentrate on CJ—who's still giving me that look.

"What?" I finally ask.

She thinks for a moment. "You're just so…different."

I have to decide how honest to be right now. In less than an hour, my almost—for lack of a better term—boyfriend and his best friend are going to walk though that door. She knows that my life is different. That I'm different. But I feel the need to choose my words carefully. "I've had to be, CJ. Things just all kind of fell apart, you know? Once I figured out how to pick up the pieces and move on, I did. Things are really starting to come together now."

She nods. "That's great. That's really…great." She takes a sip of her drink, sets it down, picks it back up, and then sets it back down. "About the lock down—"

I cut her off. "Please, let's not talk about it."

"I really think I should tell you what I really meant."

That makes me angry. "CJ, I know what you really meant. You meant that I had inappropriate feelings for my boss. You meant that I was no longer able to do my job. What you meant was that I should explore other avenues because the man I was in love with—a feeling, by the way, so intense that at times I couldn't see straight—couldn't ever love me back. You implied that I was somehow lesser than him. So when I did move on, because I couldn't stand the fact that one of my best friends thought so little of me, because I started to think that maybe you were right, I did something amazing for myself. I actually started to follow in your footsteps. Because, despite everything, despite knowing what you think of me, I really admire you."

"Donna, I never meant that you were less than him. I never, ever, meant to imply that what you were feeling wasn't real." She cocks her head to one side. "I always kind of thought that no matter what you and Josh would end up together. I honestly thought that if you moved on, if you had a chance to be you, Donna Moss, not Donnatella Moss Joshua Lyman's Girl Friday, then when it was time you would really be ready to take that next step. I was afraid of how you could short change yourself if you never got to know yourself and an adult." She pauses, giving me an opportunity to stop her, I think. "You were so young when you came to us. But you were different than the others, even then. It was amazing, really, your passion for it. It ignited the rest of us. But then the infatuation started. We all saw it. The only way we could think to keep things appropriate was to keep you and Josh together. We knew, above all else, that both of your senses of propriety would keep you apart. Don't you see, Donna, we did this to you."

"You were trying to get me out." Realization dawns. All of them, CJ, Toby, Sam, Leo, maybe even the President, kept Josh and I so close together so we wouldn't be a political liability. I don't know whether to love them for it or to hate them for it.

She nods. "When it became apparent that your feelings for Josh went beyond simple infatuation we decided it would be best if you left. If you left, by the time Josh would get around to making things right between you two—"

"We'd no longer be a political liability." I finish for her. I'm tearing up now. "CJ, I have news for you. The feelings I have for Josh evolved from simple infatuation years ago. But, you were right about one thing. My sense of propriety did keep me from telling Josh exactly how I felt. My loyalty to both him and the job kept me there for seven long years. Kept me both as close to and as far from the man I loved more than life itself. And I can't believe that you all did it on purpose. I can't believe that you could do that and still call yourself my friend." I am crying now. This is not how I envisioned this going.

"Donna, please—" CJ reaches out across the table and puts a hand on my forearm, but I jerk it away. She starts again, "Donna, please understand. There's no way we could have known when we made the decision."

"Maybe not, but you certainly knew somewhere along the way, sometime before that conversation. You could have put a stop to it a long time ago."

"Be honest, would you have left four years ago? Knowing that you couldn't be with him? Knowing you couldn't just quit and then claim him for your own? Knowing that wouldn't solve anything? That it would look just as inappropriate that way as if you were together while you worked for him? I could tell when it came apart for you. I believed it better to push you out before the thing between the two of you became irreparable."

"You were almost too late." I hear Josh's soft tenor behind me at the same time I feel his hand land on my shoulder. I whip around to face him. He's got a look on his face I've never seen before. He looks angry, hurt, betrayed, but also a little relieved.

"Almost?" I turn back to face CJ, there's a hopeful smile on her face.

"Yeah, almost." I say with that same hopeful smile as I lay my hand over his.

"So, are you two?" Her question trails off, but there's no mistaking what she means.

"Not yet, but we're getting there."

******************

Catching up with CJ was good. It was also emotionally exhausting. It was fun to have the four of us together again, though. She left about a half hour ago. Sam and Josh are engaged in a conversation I'm too tired, and a little too drunk to follow. After the drinks toasting Sam's acceptance of Josh's job offer of Communications Director on the campaign, I had to cut me off. Contrary to what I've tried, fairly successfully, to make our friends believe, Josh's system is not that sensitive. He and Sam have been going drink for drink for a while now and neither is showing signs of inebriation.

After spending about fifteen minutes psyching myself up, I turn to Josh, "I need to go home. Work bright and early tomorrow." I lean in to kiss him on the cheek. I'm surprised when he turns enough for our lips to meet. The kiss he gives me is a little too steamy for public, but nice nonetheless. Sam coughs behind his hand, but he can't hide the grin. I lean over and kiss his cheek. "It was great to see you, Sam. You're coming out for good next week, right?"

"Yep. Good night, Donna."

"'Night." I lean into Josh again, "Good night, I love you."

He completely surprises me when he tells me he loves me too, loud enough for Sam to hear.

********************

After Donna leaves Sam starts questioning me immediately. "Why didn't you tell me that things have gotten so good?"

"I'm afraid that if I start to talk about it, it's all going to unravel."

"Last Thursday when you called me you were sure that things between you and Donna were a complete and total mess. Today, four days later, it's "I love you" all around."

"To be fair, we've known we've loved each other for years. And you and Donna have both said it, there's a difference between loving someone and being in love with someone. I tell my mom I love her every time we talk."

Sam seems exasperated. "That's not at all the same thing and you know it."

"I'm not entirely sure where this thing is going yet. I'm trying to be as cautious as possible. But damn it, Sam, a lot has happened in the last couple of days. She wants a relationship. I'm almost sure I want a relationship. The more I think about it, the more I can't imagine my life without her. If I'm not going to be with her, I'm probably not ever going to be with anyone."

"That sounds a lot like being in love with her. Well, you know, for the emotionally stunted."

"I am not emotionally stunted. I just choose to express myself differently." I consider this for a moment. I'm really not emotionally stunted. And I think I've shown a lot of really great growth over the last week. Though, it does seem insane to me that all of this has happened in the span of a week. "Oh my god, Sam."

He looks very alarmed, "What?"

"It's only been a week. Last Monday was the night that she told me everything. It's only been a week. What the hell do I think I'm doing?" I knock back the rest of my drink. "This is exactly what I was afraid of. This is what I didn't want happening. She's got this insane power over me. I can't lose myself to her, Sam, I can't."

"Whoa, calm down. It has not only been a week. This has been seven years in the making. You fuck this up now and you may not get another chance. Get a hold of yourself. No one's trying to pin you down. She's not trying to force you into something you don't want."

"Oh yes she is. She's luring me in with sex!" Now I'm being irrational. I know it, but I can't stop it. "She told me that it didn't matter if there was going to be a relationship or not. She just wanted to know so she could prepare herself. She's luring me with all the sex and all the kissing."

"All the sex?" He asks this with total disbelief, like there's no way in hell I'm getting any.

"Okay, well, the promise of all the sex. She says that the banter was the foreplay."

"Josh, I could use just a little less information about your sex life with Donna."

"I don't have a sex life with Donna!" I may have said that a little loud. The nice elderly couple at the next table is glaring at me.

"You do realize that this entire thing has been one giant comedy of errors? That things are good, then they're bad, then they're good again, so one of you has to go and screw it all up." I start to interject but he talks over me. "And it's not just you. It's Donna too. It's like you two are terrified of the possibility of actually being together. It's almost like you believe that when you get together it's over. That the climax just isn't going to live up to the build up. The sad thing is, with the two of you, it may just be true."

I'm especially afraid that he may very well be right.


	5. Psychological Nudity

_**Author's Note: I'm posting my other works to FF that never quite made it here. This was posted at B4A and on my website, way back when it was written. That was... 2006.**_

* * *

I'm starting to worry. Monday night was good, it really was. It was fantastic to see Sam and even CJ. It was even better to see Josh. I don't know what it is about that man that can make me feel like a teenager in love. I anxiously await phone calls from the campaign even when they're not from him, thinking perhaps he sent a message along with the caller. I look for photos of him on CNN. I hate that the infatuation has begun again. This is where all the problems started in the first place.

I've been in Texas since Wednesday and it's damn hot. It's Saturday, I'm getting a well deserved three hours of rest before I'm meeting campaign volunteers in Ft. Worth. I haven't actually talked to Josh since I left DC on Wednesday morning. And the conversations that I had with him between the Royal Vinter and my departure for Texas wouldn't exactly win any relationship awards. The conversations were short and only about the campaign. Josh seemed skittish and more than a little cold.

I think he may be changing his mind about the possibility of us being together. It all happened too much, too fast. There's all this pressure, you know? I know Josh feels it. I definitely feel it. It's pressure to perform up to the expectations of many years worth of potential. It's pressure from the people around us to keep our wits about us as we explore this uncharted territory. Not only do we have to protect ourselves from failure, but we have to protect the people around us. That's quite a burden.

Is it worth it? Well, I tend to think it is. But we went from zero to sixty in a week. I shouldn't be surprised that Josh needs some time to process. Hell, I could use some time to process. I don't want to back off completely and make him think I'm not interested. When I think about it, that's exactly what's he done to me. I hope it wasn't intentional. I really wish I had someone to talk to.

I'm startled when as soon as I make that wish, my cell phone rings. I look at the caller ID, but the number is unfamiliar. "Donna Moss."

"Hey lady, so how have you been?"

"Sam?"

"Such as I am." He sounds very happy. "I have a favor to ask of you."

"Sure! What can I do to help?" his happiness is infectious.

"Well," he sounds bashful, now, "When I come out next week, Sierra's coming with me."

"Sam, that's great!" I know that he's planning on moving back into the townhouse he owns in DC. I'm glad to hear that Sierra's coming with him. He seems crazy about her.

"The thing is, she's not going to know anyone in DC. Do you think you could meet her, show her around a little, give her someone to talk to other than me?"

"Of course! Is she coming to stay?"

"I certainly hope so. I know you don't have a whole lot of time, but if you just work her into your schedule a little, I'm sure she'd really appreciate it."

"Consider it done. She really sounds great; I'm looking forward to getting to know her."

"Thank you Donna, you're really the best, you know that?"

I laugh. "Thank you." He hems and haws for a couple of seconds, makes polite chit-chat, but before long I just can't take it anymore. "Oh, spit it out already!"

"I wanted to talk to you about Josh." The words just tumble out in a rush.

Well, this could be good. "Okay. Then you must know why he's been so distant this past week."

"I think I do. After you left the Royal he and I stayed and talked for a while. He sort of...flipped out a little bit."

"What do you mean he 'sort of flipped out'?"

"Well, after you left it hit him how quickly this was happening. I don't think he's really upset, I just think he's still not sure he wants."

"You mean we're back to that?" This is very exasperating. "It finally seemed like he was okay with us being together, and now he's back to being unsure what he wants. Jesus Sam I can't take any more of this. This back and forth is just going to kill me."

"It's not that he's not sure what he wants, I guess I misspoke. It's that he really didn't think that it was gong to happen this fast. He's ready, Donna, he really is. I know it doesn't seem like it right now. Just, try to be little understanding." Sam chuckles. "He thinks you have this insane hold over him. He thinks that you have the power to make him feel things and think things that he wouldn't normally think or feel. You know, without your influence."

"That's absurd."

"You know that, and I know that, but Josh is grasping at straws. He's scared. This has a huge potential to not work, you know that?"

"You don't think Josh and I can be together?"

"I'm just saying that maybe the perception of a relationship with Josh is greater than the reality."

"You think I haven't thought about that?" I have thought about that. A lot. "It's only been a week, Sam. We went from not speaking, to him hating me, to my confession, to 'let's be friends', to potential lovers in a very short span of time. Not to mention we've got a lot of history to deal with."

"Is there any reason to rush?"

"No, I don't guess there is."

"Without sounding like I'm asking you to back off, do you think you could just give him some space? Let him think and stew a little. Maybe just let him come to you."

"Yeah. That works great for him, Sam, but what about me? I realize he's a little freaked out. I'm trying my best to be considerate of his feelings, but I have feelings too. A lot of very deep, very strong feelings that I'm struggling with. I need a little understanding too. It seems like all I've done since this has come about is placate Josh, to give him what he wants. He wasn't sure he wanted a relationship so I offered him sex. I actually told him we could have a purely sexual relationship, if that's what he wanted; all he had to do was let me know. But, I did that for him. I'm afraid that's the option he's going to choose. And, damn it, I'm going to be powerless to him if he decides that's all he wants. And if that is all he wants, it's going to break my heart."

"I have to admit to being a little uncomfortable with this conversation, Donna." He does sound uncomfortable.

Yeah, well, I need someone to talk to. "Suck it up, Sam. You're the closest thing to a girlfriend I've got anymore. Trust me, I'm as anxious for Sierra to get here as you are."

"Somehow," he says wryly, "I doubt that."

"Goodnight, Sam."

"Night, Donna. Just, think about what I said, okay?"

"All right. I will. Thanks for the talk."

"Anytime." He says sincerely. And, I know he means it.

*******************

I do think about what Sam said. I've thought about it endlessly since he and I spoke. The more I think about it, the more I believe I've gotten the raw end of the deal. I've been giving Josh space. Not only have I been giving Josh space, but I've been trying to do it in such a way that he doesn't think I'm not interested anymore. There's just no good way to go about this. It's now Tuesday. Josh and I have not had a decent conversation in well over a week.

Sam and Sierra will be here tomorrow. I'm thinking that will be helpful. Naturally, when the four of us do things together Josh and I will be thrown together in only the way the two "single" people can be when they're with two people who are together. A week ago I would have told you that Josh and I were all but together. Now, I'm not even sure we're on a path toward together. This is just monumentally frustrating!

After everything that's happened, how can this happen? It's that Josh and I stopped talking. We did really well during the time that we were talking. Even if we were fighting, at least we were talking. We were making an effort. Not talking has made it really easy not to make an effort. I think it's time for another little heart to heart.

I log off my laptop, kick off my heels and wander off in the direction of his office. I know he's still here…above the diehards that remain in the campaign office, even though it's eleven o'clock, I hear the din of CNN. Only Josh listens to CNN at that decibel level. On the way to his office I stop by the coffee maker and grab a Styrofoam cup and pour myself some lukewarm sludge. When I take a sip I find out why the sludge is still there. It's beyond awful! I pour it out, and set the pot up to brew. While I wait for it to perk a cup, I check the bulletin board for tomorrow's schedule and reconcile the campaign's schedule with my own. I'm picking Sierra up from the airport tomorrow at five. Sam's coming in in the morning, but she wasn't able to leave quite that soon.

When the pot's brewed enough, I grab my cup and re-pour. Then, again, I set off in the direction of Josh's office. As I approach I hear the sound of his slow, but methodical typing. It's actually kind of soothing in its familiarity. I really do miss working closely with him. Let me qualify this by saying that I do not, however, miss working for him. He's extremely engrossed in whatever it is that he's doing. I'm able to study him from the doorway. It's late, and as is usual when he's in the office late, his tie's long gone and his shirt sleeves are rolled haphazardly up his forearms. He looks much less tired than I would have imagined. He actually looks sort of invigorated. It's a good look on him.

When I've had my fill of looking at him I wander the rest of the way into his office and sit down in a canvas chair that's designed to be folded up and carried to sporting events and the like. It's the only available seating in his crowded office. "I wondered when you'd finally come in here." He continues typing.

I blush, though I'm not sure why. "I was just observing."

He finishes what he was doing, makes a few clicks of his mouse and then I hear the whir of the computer as it powers down. "Observing, Donnatella?" He's playing coy. Why?

"Yes. Even, surveying, perhaps." Two can play at coy. He smirks at me a little. "So tomorrow's going to be a full day."

He nods. "Yes, it is."

"You're picking up Sam at seven thirty, right?"

"I am. And you're picking up Sierra at five."

"I am." I echo. I fiddle with an imaginary string on my slacks, gather my resolve, and then give him a strong look. "I've missed you this last week."

He signs resignedly. "Yeah." He reaches across the desk. My heart flutters until I realize he's reaching for my coffee. Oh hell, I think as I tear up. I hand the coffee over anyway. He sips then hands it back. "It's just—"

I cut him off. "It is what it is, Josh. I'm tired of playing 'I want this I don't want this' with you. It's pretty easy, Josh. Either you do want it, or you don't want it."

He studies me quietly. His eyes harden and his decision is made—that fast. "Then I guess I don't want it."

But somehow hearing it is crushing. I suck in my breath hating that it's ragged. This conversation can't end like this, though. "What about everything before now? What about everything else we've talked about?"

"It's too fast, Donna. Please don't get me wrong. I do love you." His eyes lock with mine. "I love you very much. I know you gave me the option of sex without a relationship, but I don't just want one without the other."

"Then you do want a relationship." I'm confused.

"I don't know." Now he's exasperated. "Why do I have to make up my mind right now?"

"Because." Well, why does he? I've started this now, though, so I have to finish it. "Because I can't just wait around for you to make up your mind. Either we are or we aren't. If we aren't, then cut me loose. Please, Josh. I got over you once before, I can do it again."

I watch his heart break in time with mine. "Okay, then. You're free."

******************

Son of a bitch. What just happened here? I just told Donna that it's not going to happen. I basically just told her to move on. What am I going to do if she does? She was crying when she walked out of here a moment ago. What the fuck was I thinking? I never mean to hurt her, but I always do. I told her when this whole thing started that I wasn't sure what I wanted. I mean, I know I want her; it's just a really big step. Every time she puts a little pressure on me, though, I buckle.

It's never been this hard before. The first time I saw Mandy, I knew I wanted her. She was attractive, smart, witty, strong, funny…she's was exactly the kind of woman I've always been attracted to. And, in the beginning, she was a great girlfriend. We complemented each other well. But then I got busy, and she got busy, work started to be more important—for both of us. When it was over it was over. There weren't any tears or theatrics; there was just a short exchanging of personal items and a final farewell.

With Amy it started the same way. Everyone knows how it ended. There was a short time where I thought that maybe we could reconcile. Rather, my penis thought we could reconcile.

With Donna it's completely different. We didn't come together in the same way that Mandy or Amy and I did. With Donna it's always been more real, more special, more important. There have been a lot of years and a lot of times for us to hurt one another without the ways to fix it that are available to couples. We weren't in close quarters, in the same bed, in the same car or any of those places or situations where you're forced to work things out with a significant other. There weren't any tender kisses when words failed. There weren't any raucous nights of make up sex when it seemed like that was the only way to get the aggression out at the same time you got the affection in. There wasn't anything except her continued refusal to bring me coffee and my continued refusal to give her a raise. She wasn't impervious to being fired; truthfully we were impervious to each other.

So what exactly is this thing we've been chasing around for so long? Is it just sexual chemistry? A hormonal curiosity? Was it just chemical? Maybe there was never anything between us more than our bodies knowing that we'd be a perfect complement. And, if that's the case, why do I have this overwhelming feeling that I'm in love with a woman I just let walk out my life? Why does it feel like life as I know it is over? I've got to find her.

*****************

Why do I continue to let him do this to me? I started feeling the same things again. I bang my hand against the steering wheel; it leaves an angry red line across my palm so I do it again and again until my hand stings even in anticipation of the impact. When that hand is too sore to continue I start in on the other. Before long, that hand's too sore too and I'm at a loss for what to do next. So I finally just break down and cry. Cry like I haven't cried since I realized I had to leave Josh or lose myself.

I'm sobbing too hard to really realize what's happening when Josh pulls me out of my car. He must have come down after me. I haven't been out here that long. He pulls me against him and even though I don't want to, I cling to him. His arms are tight around me. Between the gasping between sobs and the tight band of his arms, I'm finding it difficult to breathe. But somehow the suffocation is cleansing. It makes me feel like I'm not hiding in plain sight anymore.

"Damn you to hell, Joshua. You son of a bitch." I beat against his chest as I choke on the words I've wanted to say for so long. "I love you, you bastard. I fucking love you." He lets me abuse him, verbally and physically. "You're a coward. And you play the victim. You're victimized because I love you? What the hell is your problem? You're victimized because I want to share myself with you? What is so horrible about me that taking me for what I am is some sort of punishment?" I can't look at him while I say these things so I throw my arms around him and bury my face in his chest. He just holds on to me tighter.

"Donna, I think I should take you home with me. I think we should really talk. You need to know that I don't want to end this thing between us, whatever it is. You need to call me names, let it out, tell me how you really feel. We're going to sort this out completely. Tonight." He pulls back from me, puts his hands on my shoulders, and looks into my eyes. "Tonight, we're either going to move forward or lay this thing to rest because I can't take anymore of it either. I'm too tired to keep playing games with you Donna."

I'm shocked that he's taking control of this situation. It's been like Josh to run from it. But he sounds so sure that we're going to make peace with all of this and that we're going to do it tonight that I can't do anything but nod mutely at him.

He grabs my purse off my passenger seat, locks my car doors and puts his arm around me, leading me to his car. I'm still gasping a little, trying to catch my breath, but my sobs have turned into hiccups. I lean against him as if I can't stand on my own. In a way, I can't. Not until we fix everything. When we reach his car he presses the keyless entry button that dangles off my purse, even after all this time. The locks flip over and the lights flash. I jump, though I don't really mean it. He holds the door open for me as I climb in, waits for me to be securely inside, and then closes the door.

We ride in silence. I think he's afraid that at any moment I'll make him let me out. When we arrive at his building he has to circle twice for a parking space. Still there's not a word said between us. It's not until he turns the car off that he turns to me, looks at me, really sees me since I sat across from him in his office. "Come on," he says gently, "let's go up."

I move by rote force. I can't look back into those brown eyes. Not right now. Not while I hate him. If I associate those beautiful eyes with this feeling that I have right now, there's no going back. So I push the car door open and make my way towards the door of his building. I have a key but I wait for him to unlock the door. Somehow, letting myself into his home feels too raw against my psychological nudity. He steps through the now open door but I'm having difficulty putting one foot in front of the other. "Please, Donna, I just want this next little while." He sounds tired and resigned. This is not what either of us wants to be doing tonight. Tomorrow is going to be long and arduous. And somehow—either together or apart—we're going to have to deal with our friends.

I do follow him the rest of the way into the building, and then through his front door. I even follow him into his living room where he throws his suit jacket on the coffee table and kicks his shoes off next to a chair. "I'm going to make some coffee. Make yourself at home, I'll be right back." This feels uncomfortably intimate. I'm not sure if he notices that I'm not really speaking. Everything seems disjointed and more than a little surreal.

If you would have told me a few years ago that all I had to do to get Josh to open up with me was to open up with him, I would have told you that you didn't know Joshua Lyman very well. Then if you would have told me that I'd turn into that clingy, pressing girl, I'd have told you that you didn't know this Donnatella Moss very well. But I think we're all floored that when I finally do lose my mind over all of this that he's the one who's not only willing, but is forcing us, to pick up the pieces.

A few minutes later he comes back carrying a tray with two cups, a carafe of coffee, a pint of Ben and Jerry's Cherry Garcia ice cream and two spoons. Somehow, this makes me laugh. This man knows me so well. My laughter brings a smile to his face for the first time since I dropped the bomb shell on him in his office. That smile breaks down my reserves and I start crying.

"Donna, what is it?" He sets the tray down on the coffee table and walks over to where I'm standing—the exact same spot he left me when he went to make coffee. He takes his chances and puts his arms around me. He feels good and he smells good and I just want him so bad.

I let the air rush out of me, hoping to find strength in the emptiness. "I just love you so much, Josh." I punctuate my statement by flattening my hands against his back over his shoulder blades as I press a hot, open-mouthed kiss to his neck, just below his ear. I felt him harden against me almost in the same instant I made the decision to do this. We're pretty in tune to each other for two people who can't seem to figure each other out.

He hisses his approval then winds the fingers of one hand into my hair. The pull when he closes his hand into a fist is delicious. He uses this new found strength to pull my mouth away from his neck. I'm sure that he's going to have a mark there tomorrow. His eyes bore into mine; his normally brown eyes are black with desire. "Never underestimate the depth of my love for you." He steps toward me and I step back instinctively. This small maneuver has me backed against the living room wall. He steps into me, completely erasing any thoughts I may have had about personal space. "Never." The heat is rolling off him in waves. I'm sure that I'm giving him much the same sensation.

Suddenly I'm overpowered by the desire to be dominated by him. I'm know it's so cliché and it's not "woman-power" or all the other things it's supposed to be, but there's something sinful about being dominated by a man.

******************

I see something in her eyes I'm sure I know how to deal with. From the moment she laid her lips on me I knew that tonight we were going to fix this in an old, time honored method. I also knew that the sex would be aggressive. I did not anticipate this look in her eyes. I know that look. This could actually be a good thing. Though, I think I'm a little old for this…

I drop my voice to the timbre I know excites her. "Take off your shoes. Take off your jacket." She hesitates because it's part of the game. "Do it. Now." My first choice of location for the upcoming attraction would be this hardwood floor. The bite of the wood makes a certain impression. But I'm not entirely sure I can handle that anymore. I meet her eyes again and see them on fire. To hell with my knees, we're doing this thing on the floor.

This game is all about trust. I have to play my cards very carefully and yet still tip my hand. "Get on your knees." This I don't have to ask twice. She's on her knees, hands hovering somewhere around my waist when it hits me that this is actually going to happen. Holy shit.

******************

I'm shaking in anticipation. He knows. Somehow he knows exactly what this needs to be. He's not running from this. I needed that.

His eyes are closed as if he's concentrating. I won't touch him until he gives me permission. I can't help but focus my gaze on what's right in front of me. I can see the hard ridge of him straining against the cotton confines of his dress pants. I ache to reach out and touch him, to run my hand down his length, just to feel him, just to take in the sheer impressiveness of this situation. I feel it as soon as he fixes his eyes on me again. "Touch me." He says in that low, gravelly voice that makes my stomach flip. It's the tingle that starts in my belly and settles deep between my legs, though, that drives me. I put one hand on his hip. I flatten my free palm against his hardened shaft. I rub down to his base and then up to where I can feel the flared tip of his head. Suddenly I'm grateful that he's Jewish.

*******************

She's toying with my zipper, waiting for permission. I've never seen a woman so excited to suck my cock before. It's something every man should see at least once in his life. Her mouth hasn't closed since I ordered her to her knees.

She and I are playing a game with each other. We've never played it before and yet we're both playing by the same rules. That should tell us something very profound. I don't even recognize my voice as I utter three words that would have gotten me slapped when I was with Amy. "Suck my cock." Somehow Donna knows this isn't meant to be demeaning. This is meant to give her what she wants. This is meant to instill a little trust. And if a person can trust you while you're ordering them around sexually, where you're pushing limits and exuding authority in situations where you don't have any, that's real trust.

Her fingers are electric as they grasp for the tab of my zipper. She pulls it down achingly slow because right now, it's still not real. As soon as she touches me, skin to skin, no matter how this thing comes together or falls apart, we're going to share something amazing. Then she does something completely erotic, something that in all my time receiving blow jobs has never happened to me. She leaves my pants buttoned, reaches gently through the fly of my pants and boxers, wraps her hand solidly around my length and pulls my cock out. There's no waiting period, there's no rush of cold air, because as soon as she's freed me from my pants I land hotly in her mouth. The sensation is dizzying. I'm forced to flatten my palms against the wall over her head. I realize the leverage this is going to give me and smile wickedly.

She's making long strokes with constant, mild suction. She engulfs me, buries her nose in my pubic hair then hollows her cheeks as she pulls back. I watch her do this three or four times before it hits me that she's deep-throating me. The thought that she can do that while in this position makes my knees buckle. I catch myself by placing my hand on the back of her head. My eyes widen as I realize that I've pushed her hard down my shaft. I'm expecting retribution in the form of unpleasant teeth action. Instead, she moans deep and loud, the vibrations running down my shaft. Again, holy shit.

***************

I've got a dirty little secret.

The words bounce around inside my head accompanied by one of those sing-song voices from a childhood playground.

I love to give head. I'm good at it. I'm especially good at it because I'm one of few women blessed with absolutely no gag reflex. It sucks when you're sick, but it's great when you want to do this. This entire situation is perfect. He's forceful and commanding. He tastes amazing. And then he does it. His hand lands on the back of my head as I make my upstroke. The force slams me back down his shaft where his head bumps against the back of my throat. That feeling right there is exactly why I love giving head. I can't help the moan that escapes me. My nipples tighten painfully against the satin of my bra. Wetness floods my center, liberally coating the crotch of my slacks. I either should have worn underwear or a skirt.

I push back against his hand. He lets his fingers wind into the silky strands there again. He knows how I feel about the hair pulling now, that's a good thing. The hottest thing a man can do to me is pull my hair and breathe hotly into my ear. He allows my withdraw then pushes me slowly back against him. I whimper in frustration. He takes note because on the next stroke he uses more speed and more force and lets his hips thrust a little. Mentally, I smile at the thought that I'm undoing about twenty five years of the good work of women who taught him not to do that. Well, I'm not most women. I'm more of a "fuck me hard" kind of girl.

This is quickly becoming a means to and end, and that's okay. The only unfortunate thing is I'm not getting to use any of my really cool tricks to make him shudder. But I think the sheer force and powerfulness of it all is really doing it for him right now. And, that's kind of the idea.

After a few more thrusts he steadies my head with both his hands. I know what's coming and I'm trembling with excitement. He looks down into my eyes. With his cock protruding from my mouth I merely nod. That's all it takes before he's thrusting strongly into my mouth. I don't have to move or suck or lick or think. It's completely hot, what he's doing right now, and I'm just one long, constant moan. I feel the vibrations of my sound travel though him. That is so fucking erotic. I can't help but reach down between us and press against my clit to alleviate a little of the pressure building there. My fingers come away wet; I've completely soaked through my pants now.

His thrusting is becoming faster and harder. He's close now, though, so at the end of each stroke, just as he bottoms out, he slows long enough for me to stroke the underside of his shaft, that long, thick vein that runs the length of him, with the flat of my tongue. He grunts the first time I do it. Four more strokes and he makes motion to pull out of my mouth as he comes. That won't do. I grab his hips to steady him, forcing him to empty himself down my throat. Each burst of his climax is punctuated by a slight, "Ah, ah, ah" sound. When he's done he's still hard. Something I've heard about—read about—but never seen. Oh yeah, this is going to be good.

He slips himself from my mouth and just as I can see that he is still hard, I can see that the urgency is gone. I see that "we should talk" look in his eyes and resign myself to the fact that it's going to be a while before I can play with him again.

He somehow tucks himself back into his pants—I can't help thinking what a shame—and the reaches out a hand to help me up. I accept and stand, now shorter than him without my heels on. The thing I love most about physical Josh? The fact that he's not a large man but he can still manage to make me feel tiny. I exert myself and press a kiss to his lips. He presses me up against the wall again, but this time it's all just a little more tender, a little more loving. The kiss is almost chaste considering what we were doing a few moments ago. Our tongues do not engage. This is just a mutual meeting of the lips. There's something so normal, so ordinary, so beautiful about it. He studiously ignores my body that's toying with him for more attention.

"Come on," he says in that still gravelly voice, "the coffee's still hot and the ice cream's still cold, and I still have a few things I want to talk to you about." He entwines our fingers and pulls me after him over to the couch. We both sit. I'm having a hard time keeping my hands off him. He hisses as the pads of my fingers make contact with one of his nipples. And I'm still fascinated with that hard ridge of him, hidden beneath his trousers, even though we're now intimately acquainted. But, this is Josh, this is the man who knows me and knows how to get my attention. "Stop or I'll tie you up." That voice is going to be the end of me, I just know it.

***************

I'm very surprised by this woman. I never would have pegged her for a woman who enjoyed this kind of sexuality. But then she's the kind of woman who always has it together. She's a woman who works very hard to project an image. I guess she would like to lose a little control every now and again. I really hope we can work this out because this dark sexuality is something I'd really like to explore with her.

She won't stop touching me though. When I threaten her with tying her up her eyes darken further. Damn, she's actually excited about the prospect of being tied up. We're definitely going to have to explore that further.

But for now, we need to really talk. I pour two cups of coffee and hand her a cup. "You want to go first?"

She contemplates me for a moment, takes a sip of her coffee and then nods. "Do you remember the night we first talked and I described what it felt like to be in love with you?" I nod at her. "Well, I willed myself not to let that happen again, I told myself we were going to take this slow. But, you're like an obsession for me. And all the time I'm trying to tell myself that it's unhealthy I have to wonder why it is."

I understand where she's going with this. "I'm afraid of losing myself in that kind of feeling you talked about. I think I'd be powerless to you."

She chuckles ruefully, "If what happened over there," she points at the wall, "is any indication of what's it's going to be like, I'd say that you're anything but powerless."

Amazingly, the sex feels like the safer conversational ground right now. "I don't want to ask why you never told me, because I know why, but I have to know why you never gave me any indication that that's what it was like for you."

"You want to know why I like the things that other women would slap you for?"

I can't help but grin. "Yeah."

"Well, I wasn't raped or abused or anything heinous like that." I feel my eyes widen, that's not what I was thinking really, but it was definitely in the back of my mind. "I like the feeling of someone wanting me so much they can't control themselves. Most men, at least the men in my past, have run from that. No one is comfortable with it. Then, on the heels of my obsession with you not only are you comfortable with it, but you embraced it."

She sets her coffee cup down, closes her eyes and leans back against the cushions of the couch. "I don't know how you knew, but you did." I'm mesmerized by her hand—her fingernails are lightly scratching her thigh, slightly bunching the soft material of her grey slacks. Her other hand falls at the hollow of her throat, her wrist dangling between her breasts. I don't know if she realizes she's done it, but her legs part slightly. I can't help but look. The telltale dark spot between her legs causes a surge inside me that makes me painfully harder than I already was. "Somehow you knew that I wanted you to take over, make me do things."

I try very hard not to sound strangled when I say, "I saw it in your eyes." The hand that was on her thigh travels to between her legs. Her long elegant middle finger presses against what I'm sure is her clit. I'm transfixed. She's making tiny little circles that are almost imperceptible. The hand that was at her throat makes the short trip to her breast. She just cups the supple flesh. I can't believe I'm sitting on my couch watching Donna masturbate in front of me.

"That night we talked, when I ran from you, I didn't know how to handle it all. When I can't find someone else to abuse me, I abuse myself, can you imagine? I ran up to my hotel room, stripped and then masturbated hard until I came." I think back to that night and to the slight tang that was in the air in her room. I didn't try to place it. I wonder why. "I've probably done that hundreds of times during our time together."

I imagine her in hotel rooms, in her apartment, in my apartment during that summer. I imagine her with her hand buried between her legs, the other hand pinching her nipples or maybe even clamped around her throat. I feel the tell-tale twitch in my cock, just before I come. "Fuck."

Her eyes fly open and she stops touching herself. She watches as my hips flex rapidly in response to my intense orgasm. Then she looks where the dark spot is forming near my waist band and actually giggles. Well, hell, two can play at this game. I stand in front of her. I toe off my socks, because really, socks and no pants is a long way from hot. I undo my belt and then my trousers and step out of them, throwing them in the general direction of my bed room. I realized belatedly that my cock is hanging out of my boxers. It's not so much hanging as it's pointing—straight at Donna. Leave it to him to know exactly what he wants. She stares. I wrestle with my tie and dress shirt. Once both are gone I rearrange myself in my boxers and undershirt. I use my dress shirt to wipe away some of the mess I've left on my boxers. If I were a more confident man I'd just strip completely and sit across from Donna naked. Judging from the way she's looking at me right now, I think it's safe to assume she's happy with my physical self. That makes me very happy.

I sit down next to her. I know my boxers are gaping open because she's staring. I feel myself stir again. What the hell is up with this? I'm way too old for this kind of performance. It's also been a long time since I was able to come without tactile stimulation. What this woman is capable of doing to me is amazing. I've got to get this back on track.

"So what you're telling me is that the rough sex isn't about being abused?"

"No, it's really not. It's about a heightened sense of feeling. A heightened sense of self." She looks in to my eyes. "It's about finally being able to lose myself in something."

"I know I keep telling you I'm not sure what I want, and that's really true. But I do know what I don't want. I don't want us to not be together. Every time this comes apart I'm frantic to pull it back together. Then, when I get it pulled back together, I give you hope that what I want is a deep, meaningful, lasting relationship. I think that's what I want too, then you start to put the pressure on and I panic, so I push you away. Then I'm frantic again about pulling it back together. So, no Donna, I'm not entirely sure what I want. But, I can tell you with the utmost certainty that I don't want us completely apart."

She looks confused. "There's something fundamental about this that I don't understand. Why are you not sure how much you want from me? You know you don't want to be without me but you're not sure you want to be with me. How does that make sense? What are you so scared of?"

"That I'm going to lose myself down that black hole you talked about. That the feeling gets too intense and I get lost in it."

"Josh, I hate to break it to you, but I think that's what love is."

"I've been in love before and it never felt like that."

"Well, I have been in love before. With you. And it completely felt like that."

"So now what?"

"You make a decision."

"It's come back down to that? Why am I always being forced to make a decision?"

"Because I've already made my decision!" She's yelling. This is good, this is what we came here for. "I've already decided that I want you. All of you. The good, the bad and the ugly, Josh. I want you. You seem to vacillate between wanting me and being afraid of me. At some point you have to make a decision."

I think about it for a minute. Two minutes. Five minutes. Fifteen minutes now we've been sitting in silence while I think. Finally, I come to a decision. I just hope to hell it's the right one.


	6. Tragic

_**Author's Note: I'm posting my other works to FF that never quite made it here. This was posted at B4A and on my website, way back when it was written. That was... May 2006.**_

* * *

A moment ago I was so mad at him that I could have killed him. Or, at the very least, I could have walked out of his life and never looked back. But now, he's kissing me for all he's worth. It's tragic, really. I don't know whether this is hello or goodbye. Since I'm unsure, I only half kiss him back. But, he feels so good. And I can't help but hope, that after everything that's happened tonight, that his is hello.

We break apart and his eyes bore into mine. "I want to be with you."

I'm breathless. "I want to be with you too." But, we've been here before. "You're not going to change your mind again, are you?"

"I'm probably going to change my mind a lot. This is really huge, Donna. This is different than any other relationship I've ever walked into."

"Why?"

"Because I'll never be the same if I ever have to walk away." He cups my face

Now that I've been given permission I can't help but touch him. He's nearly naked and leaning over me. How am I supposed to think when he's doing that? I shift under him just a little and then I'm laying back and he's crawling up my body, settling himself between my legs and reclaiming my lips. I hook a thigh up over his hip to increase the contact between us. The motion pushes his hard shaft against my clit. I know I'm hot and wet and I'm sure he can feel it through the thin cotton of his boxers.

"So you want to be with me? We're really going to do this?"

"Yeah, we are."

"But," I really do have to sass him a little here, "just so we're clear on this, you are planning on changing your mind about us from time to time?"

Suddenly he pulls away from me, startled I meet his eyes. I watch his eyes turn black and his jaw set. I can't help the shiver that runs through me. With one arm, next to my head, he supports himself, with the other he pulls my arms, one at a time, from around him. He holds my wrists together over my head against the arm of the couch. And then he says those words again. "Never underestimate the depth of my love for you." He kisses me, bites my bottom lip, kisses me again and then turns my wrists lose. "Don't move or I will tie you up." He stands up. I don't dare move. I know he's serious. And while the thought of being tied up is tantalizing, that's not the game.

He takes a few steps backward. He's now standing about five feet away from the couch. After considering me for a moment he crosses his arms over his chest. "I love you, Donna, deeply and desperately. But, coming to that realization does not immediately displace all these years worth of feelings. So, yes, from time to time I will change my mind about us. But, I'm going to do my best to make sure that it's something that happens inside me, something I can get a grip on. And eventually, I'll be able to get it out of my head. You can't tell me that one day you're not going to wake up and wonder why you're with me."

I'm going to take my chances here, because this is so important, and sit up. He quirks an eyebrow at me that lets me know this indiscretion has been tallied and will later be a punishable offense. I fix him in my stare because this is the last time I'm justifying this to him. "Yes, I can tell you with the utmost certainty that I will never wake up and wonder why I'm with you. The things that drive me crazy about you are the same things that made me fall in love with you. Face it Josh, I'm not going anywhere."

*********************

It's that kind of conviction that makes me wonder if I deserve her. How can she be so sure she wants me? How can she be so sure when I've never been more than a passing, fleeting fancy to any other woman in my life? Well, I guess I've never been that to her. She really didn't give up on me, at least not until I'd pushed her away in every way I knew how. And, of course, CJ's and the rest of our friends didn't help.

She's looking at me expectantly. I'm trying to look relatively imposing, but I don't think I'm pulling it off standing here in my boxers and t-shirt. "So come hell or high water I'm stuck with you?" I approach her.

She reaches out for me and wraps her arms around my waist laying her cheek high on my belly. "Yeah, I'd say you are."

**********************

Finally it feels like we may be bringing the coming together part of this to some conclusion. What's only been a couple of weeks feels like longer and I'm just exhausted. The soft cotton of Josh's t-shirt caresses my face. He wants to be with me. Despite everything he wants to be with me. The realization leaves me feeling heavy. I nuzzle my cheek against him and his hand falls to the back of my head. This time the fervent sexuality from before is missing. It's been replaced by something that feels like the love he's been expressing.

I want desperately to have my wicked way with him. As much as I want that, though, I feel the desperation of emotional exhaustion begin to take over my body.

"Donna?" I can feel the rumble of his voice as much as I can hear it.

"Mmm." It's about all the answer I can force out of me right now.

"Let me take you to bed. We're both exhausted. We'll sleep tonight and work out the rest of the details tomorrow."

*****************

She starts to object, I know she wants this as much as I do, but we're both much more than exhausted. It's one thirty and I have to leave for the airport at six thirty. The emotions of the past few weeks are starting to catch up with me. It's been one hell of a roller coaster ride just to get to this point. We made an awful lot of work out the process it took to get here. Is everything with us always going to be this kind of battle? Is everything going to be emotionally draining? Is any of this going to be uplifting?

I cant' help but think that this is the kind of relationship destined to be a distraction. Are we destined for drama? I also can't help but think that I'm too old for that. So is Donna. Surely neither of us will let it get to that point. Right?

Unable to answer my own questions I take her hands and pull her up to me. We make our way slowly and quietly to my bedroom. Despite the turmoil to get here, this just all feels too easy. It's too undone, too unfinished. We're going to make a mess of this.

*****************

He leads me to his bed. I'm tired, I know he is too. As tired as I am, though, I really want to keep touching him. I'm so turned on. I have been since he ordered me to my knees. He's already come – twice even, but I haven't. I lost myself out there on the couch, touching myself like that in front of him – that wasn't like me at all. I want him to touch me until I come. He's busying himself with the details of preparing the bed for us to sleep. But seeing the bed, seeing him most of the way undressed, feeling my arousal, all has me gearing up to make a go of it. My voice sounds loud in the quiet room, "Tie me up, Josh."

He spins around suddenly. The look on his face is predatory and quite arousing, as if I wasn't aroused enough already. "What do you want, Donna?"

"I want you to tie me up, Joshua. I want to come." But then, inspiration strikes. I smile at him coyly, "Or…"

"Or what?" He looks intrigued.

I spy a hard wooden chair over in the corner of his bedroom with the slacks he wore yesterday thrown over it. I point to it, arm outstretched. "Or, you get that chair and bring it over here by the bed and enjoy the late show." I saw the look in his eyes out in the living room when he saw me touching myself. And this could be a great opportunity to tease him. He pretends to contemplate my proposition. Then dutifully he retrieves the chair from across the room and pulls it right up next to the bed. He sits then looks at me expectantly. When he sits, the fly of his boxer shorts gapes open. He either doesn't notice or doesn't care but I can already see the beginnings of an erection beginning to stir within the cotton confines.

The bed separates us; on my side I'm still fully clothed. I'd love to see him naked, but I save that request for later. I crawl onto his bed – a large California King – and situate myself such that he has a fantastic view of the apex of my legs. I'm going to torture him for a while and keep my clothes on.

I close my eyes and reach for my breast when suddenly he breaks the silence. "Wait!" He gets up and shuts off the overhead light. The room turns blue from the rays of moonlight coming in through the window. He turns on a small lamp near the head of his bed and I'm awash in amber colored light. He looks proud of himself and then sits again. "Please, continue." He says with a smirk.

Suddenly, neither one of us are very tired. I look to him once more to make sure it's okay to continue. He leans forward in his seat resting his forearms on his knees. Yep. We're ready to rock and roll. Again, I lean back but this time supported by his pillows. I let my head fall back and my eyes close. My hands wander across my belly. My body is already anticipating my next move and my nipples tighten. The feeling is delicious – the anticipation. So, I prolong the journey towards my breasts. I slide my palms along the flat of my belly, across my hips and down my thighs. I pull my left hand up to delicately cup my breast and draw my right hand up my inner thigh.

My nipples are now so hard they hurt. I pinch one then the other to take away a little of the pressure. I unbutton the top two buttons of my blouse so I can reach inside and run my fingertips over the silky skin that swells over the satin cups.

************************

Her fingers move delicately across the curve of her left breast. I can only see a hint of the creamy white skin between her breasts. My eyes are alternately drawn to the faint outlines of her hardened nipples beneath bra and blouse and the tantalizing dark spot between her legs.

I can't believe she's doing this. When she started touching herself out on the couch I knew that it was unconscious. I've always made an effort not to think of Donna's sexuality but when I did I never imagined that she'd be open about it. I always imagined her as a bit of a – for lack of a better term – prudish sort of person when it came to such matters. Evidently I was wrong.

I focus my attention back on her roaming hands. In the short time of my reverie she managed to liberate another button on her blouse. Three down, two to go. I watch her fondle her breasts, paying careful attention to the hardened peaks at the summit of each of those majestic hills. She studiously ignores what must now be a fire burning between her thighs and opts instead for light scratches over her sensitized thighs.

She's panting softly. And every now and again, when she brushes her nipples just the right way, she mews just a little. I'm transfixed by her even though most of her movements are rather chaste. At least right now while she's mostly clothed anyway.

But suddenly the color in her cheeks changes, her head drops back and she loses that languid pace she's been maintaining. Suddenly she's frantic to get her blouse unbuttoned. But her hands are torn between getting the blouse unbuttoned and getting her bra out of her way. She's now craving skin on skin contact, and I have to admit, so am I. In a flourish of fabric she bares her naked torso to me.

*******************

I couldn't take another moment of teasing myself bound by the confines of my clothing. But now I've bared my breasts to Josh and I'm feeling a little self conscious. My one physical flaw is rearing its ugly head. I viciously push it aside and continue to touch myself.

I palm my nipples, now hardened further by being exposed to the room's cool air. Until this point the show's been mostly for Josh but now that I'm actually able to touch my breasts freely I feel a new rush of wetness between my thighs. I can't help the moan that escapes me. Yeah, we're cooking now.

My legs are splayed open and I know my heated center is a point of focus for him. I'm glad it is. Knowing his eyes are glued to my apex makes the flesh there swell and tingle in anticipation. The more aroused I get the more sensitive my breasts become and the more fun the whole game is.

I decide to kick this party into high drive. I hear his voice, from earlier, in my head. "Take off your shoes. Take off your jacket. Do it. Now." The intensity makes me whimper even now. I remember the feel of running my hands along his hard shaft under the cotton confines of his trousers. I remember the feel of that silky steel bumping against the back of my throat.

I gather up the rest of my courage. With a deep breath I release the catch on my slacks, ease the zipper down and then push them down my hips. In less than five seconds, I'm naked before him. I'm overcome by a sudden case of modesty. I know that the feature of this presentation is buried between my legs but I've closed them now and hidden the evidence of my arousal.

*********************

My heart thrums against my chest as she sweeps her pants down her legs and tosses them unceremoniously off the end of my bed. Suddenly the brazen look in her eyes leaves and her legs snap shut. I can see uncertainty begin to form on her beautiful features. We can't have that. I gently grasp her ankles and draw them apart. Then I slide my hands up her smooth legs and push her knees gently apart. "Come for me Donnatella." Those simple words put the fire back in her eyes.

She reaches back between her legs as she lets them fall wide open. I'm torn between looking into her eyes, to see her pleasure there, and looking at the fragrant slit between her legs, to see her pleasure there. I let my eyes fall to her center and what I see there makes it very difficult to stay in my chair. She's very, very wet. And very, very close if the sounds she's making are any indication.

She swipes her fingers over her clit just a few times and then she's coming in a rush of fingers, wetness and my name. I'm pressing her hard into the mattress before I realize I've left my chair. My tongue is treating her mouth the way her finger just treated her swollen clit and the symbolism is lost on neither of us. I've been fully hard since she took off her shirt. I'm separated from her heat by only the sheer fabric of my boxers. Something about the limited contact is intoxicating.

With my tongue still dueling with hers, I reach between us to put my fingers deep within the heat I've spent the better part of the last five years imagining. Thanks to her recent orgasm my fingers just slide right in only momentarily brushing across her overly sensitized bud of nerves.

"Mmm, Donna. That was amazing." It's hard to talk when you don't want to stop kissing. "You're amazing." I keep kissing her. "That was just fucking…" Kiss. "Amazing." I feel her grin against my mouth. I can't help by grin too. We're here. We're really, actually here.

"I'm glad you liked it." Her tone is seductive, leading me to believe that the activities for the night aren't quite over.

I glance at the clock over her head. Two o'clock. I could make love to her and then catch a couple hours before I have to pick up Sam. Yeah. This could work. I capture her lips again. She must be psychic because the next thing I feel are her hands, steady and sure, at the waistband of my boxer shorts. She pushes them down as far as she can reach then I break from her long enough to swipe them off and fling them across the room.

We both hiss when we feel my hardened cock nestles between her slicked folds. "I love you." These words grind out between clenched teeth because I'm trying very hard to hold it together here.

"I love you too, Joshua." She looks into my eyes. "I love you. I love you. I love you." Those words come out in a rush. Then, "I already know you love me. Don't make love to me. Not tonight."

My slight movements cease abruptly. What? "Donna?"

"We have to be up in four hours. We haven't really slept – either one of us – in weeks. I want to really remember this and enjoy it. Please, don't make love to me tonight."

I rest my forehead against hers, contemplating her argument. "Fine." I sigh. "You're right, we both need the sleep. But stay here with me tonight. Sleep with me. I need to touch you. I need to feel your skin against me." I pull back from her and search her eyes. "But tomorrow night, you're mine."


End file.
